Her Queen of Hearts
by InspirationandStrife
Summary: The pill could neutralise 'powers' for a maximum of ten minutes and Gambit had to steal some for his cheré,spicing up their kissless relationship.But somehow nothing goes as planned for too long with the newly developed drug.Based solely on Evo,pure ROMY.
1. The Pill and the Theif

**Her Queen of Hearts**

The new drug was a success.

Born under the name of science for the cause against mutants, it was developed later into the very weapon that threatened the existence of those who are different. But at the present moment, it was a mere substance that could neutralise these extraordinary abilities for a maximum of ten uninterrupted minutes. However, no matter what dosage one used, the substance could only have the maximum timed effect. But it also served another side of the coin, which meant even the slightest dose was as strong as any amount. The biggest disappointment to those highly interested in the compound was it only neutralised powers temporarily, no other intended effect could be added.

The company that managed this compound had designed it so to be chemically untraceable and dissolvable in most substances. It had no known side effects, as all their test subjects were disposed of as soon as they were tried on. Nonetheless, an antidote for the drug was made to restore the primary condition of the consumer.

The compound was a complex combination of some of the most reactive and radioactive elements known to Earth made into a single polymer. Potassium, fluorine and uranium had the largest proportions, which gave the result its 'power neutralising' properties. It has no taste, no smell, had a pH of 7, existed as a white powder as a solid and dissolved in water to give a colourless solution. This made tracing the ionic compound highly impossible. However, as it was an ionic compound, it could not dissolve in organic solvents such as chloroform and ethanol to have additional effects of unconsciousness on the mutants.

Those interested were hoping it could dope the freaks as well as reduce their resistance abilities, giving them the ultimate edge on the enemy. The national army was intending to use the solution in shooting darts and as a gas, more of the latter since it can affect more people. They would distribute it to the official and local police as a national effort to them take down. In addition, they would distribute it to hospitals and even schools as a form of protection and prevention against freak outbreaks.

The mass production of the drug was minimised to further refine it and transform its innocent properties into a more lethal compound. Only a small section of the government knew about this project and the secret was preserved well. The company was able to perform tests on mutants sentenced to the death penalty or less than that, then killed them off as soon as the test was complete, which was necessary to avoid a public scandal. They never noted any side effects surfacing in the short term the poor souls lived after being injected with the solution.

The company was determined to find a way to add more properties, favourably deadly properties to stun, weaken, and neutralise the entire race.

Only a small section of the government knew about this project and the secret was preserved well.

***

Someone climbed onto the ledge along the wall of a warehouse by the black market. He peered through the glass and at the crates inside, assisted by only the pale moonlight provided by a slim crescent grin in the pitch black sky. His black eyes scanned the entire unmanned scene, spying out every security measure taken to prevent a break-in and a potential target. It was just too bad he knew what he was doing. With a lifetime of thieving under his belt, which was a part of his protection suit, he found what he wanted, unlatched the window and climbed in swiftly. Pulling a gadget out of his trench coat, he locked it into his staff and fired it between the walls, so it made a portable tightrope. He pulled himself across and hovered over a high pile of boxes above the laser sensors.

He opened one of the lids gingerly. His red pupils glowed with satisfaction as he grabbed as many sachets of the pills as his pockets could hold indistinctly. Thirty seconds passed and he was back out into the night, a smile broke upon his angular face.


	2. Happy Birthday, cheré

**Her Queen of Hearts 2**

He didn't expect the any of the kids to be up until ten on this Saturday morning, evidently seen from the crash party they had last night. The hall was a wreck of toppled sofas, wrappers, crushed drink cans, cake on the walls and the television was left on MTV. But there was one lone figure who sat on the upturned sofa, arms stretched out over her knees, staring at him with eyes filled with fury and concern. She glared until she could take it no more and flew at her boyfriend with a yell.

Remy Lebeau had expected her reaction to be violent beyond reasoning and caught her in his arms, falling over and laughing at her twisted expression that only grew angrier. "Must have been some party, right cheré?" He grinned his most charming smile.

Rogue stiffened in strong emotion, sitting over his stomach and clutching the collar of his vest. He had apparently chosen to wear semi-formal that morning with a black ensemble and an off-white collared shirt, outlining his fit physique entirely. The first two buttons of the shirt were left undone. He looked into her eyes with no sign of apology, to trail over her usual garb of black with the translucent dark green sleeved over her back tank top. She suddenly shoved her hand into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a black handkerchief. She laid it across his mouth and plunged into it. Then she sat him up and wrapped her hands around his neck closely, and sighed, the black cloth falling onto the marble floor. The moment lingered for an intense period before she spoke softly, "Where'd you go, Remy? You didn't forget, did ya?"

"Not at all cheré. I was thinkin' of you the whole time." He picked them both up and looked into her eyes again, slipping his arms around her waist. The wet cloth splat on the floor was completely off their minds.

"The whole time doin' what?" The frustration building in her betrayed when she clutched his sleeves.

"Gettin' my cheré her birthday present." His eyes flashed with a playful glitter.

"Durin' my birthday party?" She was appalled at his bad timing, which was completely against his steady nature.

He chose that moment to extract a sachet from his pocket and hold it before her face, wagging it in his gloved hand, shaking the contents about.

She took the plastic and tried to scrutinise the answer to her boyfriend's birthday gift of white pills. She swayed to her side, tapped her foot and frowned.

"Still beautiful." He smiled. "Try one."

"What is this?" She kept the frown.

"Try it and tell me how you feel."

"What is it?"

"It won't hurt you, cheré."

"But what is it?" She really did not like this.

"It will help _us_. But only if you let it."

"Whad'ya mean?"

"You tired of that old cloth between us?"

"Yeah."

"Then try that."

"But – "

He fell quiet and walked over to the window. She only had his silhouette to look at and his shadow cast on her by the rising sun. She looked at the sachet again.

He listened to the sweet rustling of plastic and the spurt of disgust so associated with Rogue when she is left at ends. He heard her swallow and the tapping of her tongue in the mouth trying to find the familiar bitter taste of medicine. He removed his gloves at this point. As there was none, she came over to the window too. Before she could ask he caught her bare wrists.

Rogue gasped in fright. They stood there for a minute as she gathered her wits. He was still standing there, and still smirking. He was not fainting. Her head was not aching. Her breathing went faster. Her heart rose to her throat and found herself lost for words, her mouth opened as a gaping hole.

He raised his hand to her cheek, sending shivers down her spine that she could touch his skin. Her heart accelerated as the space between them narrowed to vanish completely. Soft and velvety they were, and so tender and sweet were his. Passion fuelled the energy rushing through them in jolts. Her eyes shut as she leaned in for the real thing. Her arms wrapped around his neck, she ruffled his auburn hair. He had completely lost himself in her mouth; tilting her head and pulling away and colliding with her lips over and over again.

A grunt outside was overheard, but ignored.

Gambit would not under stay his time, gently tonguing her mouth, coaxing her to join the fun. She let herself in immediately and they played on, their tongues twirling around each other. He pushed back her white streaks and pulled her head back to lean over her, revealing more of her shapely face. He could not stop caressing her smooth skin, once forbidden now too touchable to let go.

"Hey bob!" The familiar, gruff voice of the ex-army commando broke them back into reality. The muscular bulk was halted in the centre of the mess, his usually grouchy face more grouchy than usual. "I don't wanna know what you're doin', both of you. It's none of my business – "

"Then my cheré and I are continuing this, Logan." Remy pulled them close again before he had a beer can thrown at his head. Rubbing his temple, he fixed a stare back at the glowering older man.

"As I was sayin' Remy Lebeau, it's none of my business until I see she ain't absorbing your powers." Wolverine marched up to the couple who exchanged glances.

His said "Let me do the talking, cheré."

Hers said "Crazy Cajun."

"I'm still waitin', you two." His voice was rougher, suggesting somebody better speak up before he calls the boss.

"Rogue here has learned to control her powers." He put a hand on her clothed shoulder. "Provided she has the right _circumstances_..." He slurred the last word in that debonair manner with a complimentary wink.

"Makes me wonder what kind of circumstances she's been in." Wolverine growled in reply. He turned back to the man, who smirked. "First warning to you; just make sure I don't catch you again, Gambit."

"First warnin'." repeated Remy Lebeau, nodding but still smirking, flashing his straight white teeth. That put off Wolverine to the kitchen for breakfast, just in time as Scott and Jean passed into the hall. The more cultured couple exchanged their good mornings with them, unconscious of the previous drama. Remy slipped his arm around Rogue one more time and leaned in for another kiss. He had waited an entire year for this.

***

He woke up in his bedroom with a splitting headache, as Rogue was bent over him in worry. He grinned weakly, "Some kiss, huh cheré?"

"What happened, you?" she demanded an explanation. "You – "

"Ten minutes." he replied. "It's just ten minutes."

She sat on the bed next to his pillow, rolling her eyes at her beau. "So how many of these things you have?"

He gave a grin, stretched from ear to ear. "As many as we need. There's plenty for us."

"From where?" Curiosity rose from her tone. He sat up slowly, his eyes focused into hers.

"Ah..." He breathed onto her bare throat. Noticing her tremble, his finger traced a line across her clothed collarbone to her shoulder blade, then down her arm where his eye caught sight of the packet in her hand. He slipped his hands around her hips as he whispered his hot breath into her ear, "I love you, Rogue. I love you so much. And I mean it when I say," He stroked away the loose strands of hair, fully revealing the smooth angles and pale skin. "I am all yours, cheré."

Her lips curled at the corners. She opened the packet and popped one in her mouth. Swallowing, she closed it and shook her head slowly. Looking up, she said "You should've just said you wanted to kiss me."

"Alright."

Their lips collided. His arms wrapped themselves around her waist, drawing little circles on her back. She hung out her arms on his shoulders, removing her gloves behind them and dropping them away. Her naked hands felt his face, travelling along the chiselled edges from his high cheekbones across his forehead, ravishing every inch of touching another person. She let out a soft moan into his throat as he pulled her to lie across his lap. He bent over her, never once breaking away. He let her finger his hair as he ticked the small of her back.

They broke apart at last, gasping for breath.

Rogue glanced at her watch. Five minutes, it ticked.

Remy wasted no time in sitting her on his lap, keeping the embrace. Their noses touched, time and time again, he stole soft kisses from her awaiting lips. She held his face close to hers, tilted slightly with her hands on his cheeks. His hands wandered to hers. He held them gently before lowering his head to them, laying instances of lip contact on her skin. Pushing back her sleeve, he ascended up her arm. He stopped at her shoulder. She opened her eyes with a sigh, letting him breathe over her skin. Then he descended slowly, pacing the trail delicately toward her fingertips. He covered her hand with his to look into her eyes. The passion reflected in them proved itself as he placed her hands behind his neck, and held her close.

Their cheeks were touching when she haughtily broke the warm quiet, "Two more, Remy."

"Shh..." He stroked her back, his volume low and tantalizing. "No rush." His hands travelled beneath her shirt, solely feeling around her bare waist. Then his hands took rest, knowing where the borderline lay. She clutched his shoulders, burying her nose in his crumpled collar.

The analogue device on her wrist resounded by his ear. Tick: five. Tick: four. Tick: three. Tick: two. Tick.

His hands slid out and encircled the clothed curves of her body. She lifted her head, watching his eyes dance with amusement. He picked up her gloves and helped them on her. She smiled as he took her hands again and planted a kiss on the cloth. His thumbs ran over her fingers.

Softly, he broke the silence, "Happy with your birthday, cheré?"

"Are you kiddin'?" She fought to keep a stiff upper lip. "I love you, Remy!"

"I know you do."

One last hug, that lasted an eternity, before they departed from his room for breakfast.

***

The annoying beep echoed in his soundproof office, followed by the nasal voice of his secretary, "Sir, the Head of Police of Bayville is on the line. He says it is confidential and urgent."

The government head groaned; it was enough that the cargo was delivered, what else do those morons need to put criminals under control? "Alright, Helena. But tell him he's got ten minutes max."

A second later, a male and more nervous voice sounded from the speakers. "Sir? We have a slight problem."

"Don't waste my time, officer. Get straight to the point!"

"We have reason to believe they know about it."

"Explain" he growled.

"We are slightly short of the drug, sir, but the warehouse was secured tight with laser security and surveillance ever since the shipment." The officer's voice trembled at the deathly silence from the other side of the telephone. "Only a mutant could get past that."


	3. Good Night, cheré

**Her Queen of Hearts 3**

"How could you let them know?" boomed the voice of authority. "How did they know?!"

"We don't know sir." was the meek reply that added fuel to the officer's rage. "We had placed the best security on this place and I had my men surround it at every entrance – "

"What possessed you to believe they use doors, you Klux?" The officer had no idea how to counter this problem, being sent as a representative by the main man with a few armed soldiers. He took a deep gulp of oxygen, laying his hand over his face and sighed, "Do you believe the thief came from that Xavier institution?"

"We cannot be sure, sir. They are mainly naïve kids and a few adults who watch them closely."

"What are the identities of those few adults?"

The head of police of Bayville had to count the names down on his fingers. "There's Professor Charles Xavier," His recital was torturously slow to the officer's patience that grew thinner by the minute. "And Logan, also known as Mutant X. Ororo Monroe, who has the ability to control the weather and Hank McCoy, who is an ex-professor who has become a large, blue furred beast."

"How can four adults possibly control the riot of kids under one roof?"

"Well, there were some recent recruits over the past year since – "

The officer had already stormed off with his men.

Hand in gloved hand, they came to the hall where mutant kids were sending drink cans flying into a black plastic bag that disappeared and reappeared with Kurk. Ray Crisp set the vacuum, without plugging it in any socket, on cleaning the carpet that recently underwent a makeover of fruit punch and nacho cheese. There were Jamie Madrox-es who ventured on helping Kitty rearrange the furniture to the most original positions possible as she stuck her hands through them for bits of junk hidden in places like in the vase and under sofa seats.

The couple strolled through the atmosphere, concealed by the wild laughter and exclamations of "What the –" and "Hey!" The noise began to die away as they stepped into the kitchen, where they met the bare shelves and cleared tabletops. Nonetheless the X-men were family enough to leave enough hotcakes for two on a tray and half a carton of juice. Rogue handled the juice into glasses. Gambit fired up the tray and the pancakes warmed up. A couple of minutes later they were about to tuck in when Jean and Scott appeared on the scene.

"So where were you two?" raised the one in the shades, quite light heartedly.

"Rogue here knocked me flat." Remy gestured casually. "She wanted to apologise in private."

The corners of her mouth curled up. She poured syrup onto both plates.

Jean laughed, "For not coming to your birthday, I bet."

"Where were you anyway, Gambit?" Scott was not too ready to be on first name terms with the new addition to the X-men team, and an ex-enemy besides.

Answering with his movements rather than his words, he turned to Rogue before replying, "Gettin' my cheré the gift she deserves." He wiped away a trickle of golden sweetness off her lip with a gloved finger. He stuck it into his own mouth, cocking up his brows for a brief moment.

"And what was this gift she deserves?" Jean's voice rose in pitch with every word, winking at Rogue.

Rogue cut in on him. "Everythin' I ever wanted."

Jean exchanged looks with her boyfriend and he shrugged his shoulders. Gambit gave an impression of unconcern as they took off elsewhere, but Rogue's shoulders were quite tensed.

He swallowed his mouthful. "Take it easy, cheré. They don't know anythin'."

"You think she went inside our heads?"

"She wouldn't. Besides, she isn't the nosy type." He poured over the rest of his juice into her empty glass. "How about we drive down to a joint just outside of town t'day? Spend a lil' time out of this place? Away from everyone?"

Rogue was rudely interrupted by a squeal that burst through the door. "No way! She's going shopping with us!" Kitty walked right through the table and yanked Rogue to her feet. "The mall is opening their brand new extension at twelve! C'mon, or we'll miss the _all _new shops!"

"Kitty, please." Rogue pulled away and glanced at Remy. "It's my birthday. And you know I hate shoppin'!"

"Awww, c'mon Rogue!" Kurt jumped in. "I heard there's a new –"

"Guys!" yelled the voice of authority. "We're gonna be late if we don't move!"

"Hold on to your shades, Scott!" yelled back Kitty. "Rogue's gotta come!"

"I don't want to! Guys!" she shook off the hands that held her. "Seriously...!"

The pair sighed. But persistent Kitty insisted on having the final word. "Well, if you wanna join us, call us first okay? I'm gonna take you to the biggest shop! They've got your style for sure!"

"Okay." Rogue answered, unconvinced.

"See ya' man!"

The sounds of a dozen teenagers squeezing into Jean's SUV and humming of motorbikes followed as quickly as they left. Rogue found him at the sink, drying the dishes, expression mutually annoyed by the outbreak. She went over to him, leaning on the side.

"So," she continued. "Where was this joint?"

"Out in the country, a couple hours ride from here." He smiled. "Not a distance you can't handle right, cheré?"

"You mean, on your bike?" Her blush came though the pale foundation.

"How else?" His grin was widened. "Ask _them_ for a ride?"

"No." The thought sent a flood of horror through her. "I'll go get changed."

"You do that, cheré. Meet you outside." He turned and left for the garage, not once taking a second glance at her, as was his habit to never look back. It gave him an air of mystery and charm that had kept her attracted for the past whole year, instead of the cliché romance of smooching couples she often met on the streets.

She vanished to her room and powdered her face, pulled out her darkest lipstick and lined her eyes. She stepped back to observe the change, poking her reflection for weak spots. Noticing none, she changed her gloves and slipped on black ankle leather boots. She checked her butt pocket, making sure she felt the rustle of plastic. Finally, she opened her door and stepped out, looking straight into Logan's eyes.

"Where you're goin'?" his suspicious gaze questioned more than his words did.

"Gambit's takin' me out for awhile." she replied. "Like, out of town."

"That's quite far." He huffed. "Don't get in trouble, ya' hear?"

Rogue smiled appreciatively. "Thanks, Logan." She sauntered down the corridor, her back to him.

He did not like that. Rogue is growing up too fast.

Gambit was leaning against his motorbike, head bowed over a fresh pack of poker cards. He was almost a magician with them, shuffling at light speed single-handedly, in the literal sense. He apparently had changed at lightning speed into his uniform, which Rogue always wondered if it was a full piece or could those pants be undone on their own? He glanced up suddenly, as if his ears caught her wispy footsteps coming down the stairs. He grinned and handed her a black helmet, as he set a brown one on his head. Rogue stood by the bike, waiting for him.

"Ladies first." He gestured to the front seat.

"No way."

"You've no choice, cheré." He held out his trench coat, letting it flutter in the breeze.

"Fine." Not wanting the bother of a flying coat in her face, she put her leg over, followed by Gambit who kicked away the stand and the engine hummed off. They passed through the metal gates and Rogue breathed the outside air. She sat upright with her hands on the rounded panel before her, letting the wind completely whip her hair around. Gambit leaned forward and rested his chin on her shoulder, then slowly ushered her to lean back. She had nothing to hold on to but just rested on his toned chest. The roads were packed with cars and trucks on that Saturday afternoon, but he stealthily zigzagged between the snail slow traffic, much to the jealousy of the other drivers. Suddenly Rogue caught sight of a familiar black SUV, and she gripped his arm.

He laughed and slowed down to tap on the driver's window. He waved. As tight-lipped Scott rolled down the window, a torrent of responses fired out:

"What the –"

"Not fair!"

"So you're coming after all?"

"Hey! Hey! The love boat's taken off eh?"

"Where you guys going?"

Gambit laughed in their faces and worked the bike's engine, plucking at Jean's nerves, and then accelerated at full speed out of their sight. He left a line of dust that flew into the still vehicle, sending the youths inside spluttering and yelling. Rogue loosened her grip on his arm and relaxed against him.

"What was that for?" She looked up into his visor.

"It is nice to rub it in over traffic, especially when they're late." He chuckled. "Did you see Jean's face?"

"Yeah. Worth a picture on the wall back at the institute." He was funny, in the most annoying ways, but still funny anyhow. He turned at the fork onto the empty side, where the hectic buzz of urban roads seemed so distant. "It's so beautiful out here."

The crowds and sophisticated roadways were displaced by undulating greenery and worn asphalt. There were no trees and the gentle sun gleaned upon their backs, as the road glared a hypnotic straight line. Spots of wild purple in late bloom swayed at the sidelines, being forcefully bent uncomfortably when the bike raced past. Like most highways on the outskirts of town and beyond, there were no lampposts and few signboards, so getting lost was not a problem.

"Yeah. No city can replace this." He took his eyes off the road and laid them on her. Hers were hazy, reflecting the freedom of the world outside the mansion.

Soon they were on their way to the joint he promised which was merely a small brick house surrounded by sand sat amid overgrown grass and weeds. A broken sign with the name of the stopover, 'The Last Sto –', carved into its wood clung by a single chain onto an old pole, bent and browned with rust. If not for the two cars parked by it, there was no other sign that the place was occupied.

Gambit slowed his motorbike to a halt, the crunching of gravel alerting the mutt by the door. His ears pricked up and his eyes scanned the two humans that came toward him. His nose raised and absorbed every scent, and suddenly he barked and leaped toward the man. Rogue jumped back. Gambit put his hand on the mutt's snout, rubbing he furry head and ruffling up the floppy ears, much to Rogue's surprise.

"Been here often?"

"He's a good boy." The dog tried to jump onto Remy, who just grabbed the animal by the paws and dropped him. "Down mutt."

Rogue spotted a plump apron-clad woman step out of the joint, fists on her tubby hips.

"Well, butter mah' backsi'e and call meh' a biscuit! What wild' win' blew Remy Lebeau here?" Her accent was downright heavy with a country folk's tongue.

"The Old Boy still around, Maddy?"

"Yeh' he is! An' still strong enouf' tuh' throw yeu' out if yer' make trouble. Keep yer' hands tuh' yerself', yer' hear?"

"My hands are here, nowadays." He put his arm around Rogue.

"Yeu' poor, unfortunate girl." The woman smiled at her, jest dancing in her sharp eyes. "He got yah' into any trouble yet, deah'rie?"

"You have no idea." Rogue smiled back at the woman's friendliness. She glanced across the scene and felt rather attracted to this place.

"Well, well! A sight _for_ sore eyes!" A husky voice came through the door, in the same cultured tone as well. The voice came from an aged body of a man who had spent his youth in hard labour, shown through the wrinkled, sun-baked skin. His eyes were sharp and piercing, evidently betraying the hidden power from his past. "Well, come in! Come in! Don't keep 'em waitin' awll' dae'with all ya'll chitty chattin', girl!"

"Yeah, Pa."

Gambit smiled and walked in with Rogue by his side. Passing the old man though, Rogue felt Gambit's arm pull away. Turning, her eyes trailed between Gambit's calm expressions to the stern looks of the old man. Maddy snuck behind them and stood by Rogue, whispering, "They go way back, deah'rie."

"Where'd yeu' keep 'em cards, sonny?"

"Right here, Old Boy." He patted his coat pocket.

"Well, keep 'em there, yer' hear?" He leaned into the younger man's ear and whispered something inaudible to both Rogue and Maddy.

Rogue could have sworn a grim mood passed over his face, before he resumed his smooth features. Then he turned away from the old man and took her arm, as Maddy led them to a table in the back corner of the restaurant, where the aroma of cooking was strongest. There were a few other tables in this small space, of which two were occupied by eight large, muscular men. Rogue could not believe these guys could have possible fitted into those small cars outside. They turned to glance at the couple who seated themselves down in Maddy's chatty presence. Gambit had one eye on their waitress and the other on them.

"Two usuals, Maddy." He smiled at Rogue. "Coffee? Or something stronger?" He winked.

"Coffee?" The man knew how to switch moods real fast.

Maddy trotted off into the kitchen with their orders, where the old man kept watch on them. Gambit nodded and he vanished.

"What's up with him?" Rogue sensed a tension in the home. The brown pictures were hanging crooked n the yellowed walls, their images gone sepia with age. Small lamps decorated the space between each frame, barely lighting the room. It bore the age of the 1930s, almost transporting them to that very time. The tables and chairs were creaky and the floor groaned with every movement of feet.

"I trashed this place once." He shifted his eyes to the gorillas for a quick instant.

"What happened?"

"Nothing." He did not expect her to buy that lie.

Abruptly, one of the burly men with the plaited beard clicked his tongue. Gambit kept his eyes on Rogue. She shot a challenge at them with a sharp look. The man flashed his yellow teeth into a dirty grin before puckering his lips. Rogue sneered and focused on Gambit instead.

The men burst out laughing, their guffaws shaking the old building violently. Gambit put his hand under her chin, tilting her head to look at him.

Their next move made Gambit turn slowly in their direction. "Mutant's whore!" he laughed.

"Keep the peace ya'll!" cried Maddy, standing between the two parties.

The whole group was in an uproar. "More beer, girl!" Another one of them chuckled.

Maddy took off to the kitchen, returning shortly with their orders, followed by a couple of steaming dishes. The rich scent wafted through the air as the plates bumped onto the table. The platters held minute steaks smothered in brown sauce, chunky with chopped carrots and celery, with a baked potato on the side topped with sour cream and bacon bits. Rogue had, for an instant, lost all memory of beyond two seconds ago, and sat spellbound. Maddy handed Remy two pairs of utensils and they dined in silence, broken solely by drunken sniggers.

The tension was hell for Remy.

Unconsciously his hand kept slipping into his trench coat pocket and Rogue would swiftly pull it out and grasp his fingers, until he needed them back for his next bite. The suspense of the unknown chewed the back of her skull like the mutt who was outside ramming his teeth against a dry, white bone. When her stomach could hold no more, she put an arm on his taut shoulder, meeting his hostile gaze meant for those bastards across the room.

His plate was left half uneaten when he flagged his hand for the bill. He paid it like a good man, took Rogue's arm and unhurriedly walked out. The hot breeze whipped their faces and the stiffness left his limbs. The mutt hopped around the couple. Rogue patted the soft head. He let out an exhale and apologised for the ruined lunch.

She shook her head and they boarded his bike. As he started the engine, the eight came tottering out of the door.

"Hey, freaks!" The one with the plaited beard hollered.

Gambit wasted no time in accelerating at full speed out of earshot of their jeers. He slowed down five minutes later.

"So," She was getting impatient for this nerve-racking moment to end. "Where are we going?"

"Far away from those _humans_." He grumbled. He then began the short tale. "Used to venture out to the North, having a good time at The Last Stop before heading on the road. One day, they came in, talking about mutants – how worthless we are. They got bored with the ale and all; challenged everyone to cards. I played. We used my cards. I won; you can imagine they weren't too happy 'bout that. They put me on the wall and smashed a bottle in my face. Next thing they knew, the cards were blowing up everywhere and I was gone. They hunted me for awhile – got familiar with my face. I got familiar with theirs, too."

He gave a moment's thought. "I never gone back to The Last Stop until today. They had to be there."

"Serious?" She found it more melodramatic than befits from this mysterious man. "You don't go blowin' up things every time you're mad..."

"I wasn't what I am now. No worries, cheré."

"Anymore old enemies down the road?"

"I promise, no."

He had walked right into the spacious office after the slight brawl with that Wolverine fellow. He kept his word and waved away his men to wait outside. Seating himself in the chair opposite the professor's, he pulled out neither briefcase nor papers, but simply waited on Xavier to start the ball rolling.

And he did, promptly but with a peaceful ring to his tone, "Yes, officer?" His manner was calm and the officer felt rather relaxed in his presence. "What seems to be the problem?"

The officer took a breath. "There has been a break-in at one of the warehouses last night. The tightest security measures have been taken to prevent all intruders from entering the restricted facility by _most_ means necessary."

"What has been stolen?" The professor chose to dismiss the underlying statement for the moment, more concerned with the main purpose of the government-sent representative.

"It's government secret." His note was firm and final. "I'm sorry, but I am not allowed to confide such information."

"Well," Xavier put his fingertips together. "I apologise, but I cannot see any room for discussion on these terms."

"I'm not here for a discussion, Professor. I am here to inform you that your mutants are under suspicion for the illegal handling of government property."

"I assure you, officer, none of my mutants would know about this. I can vouch for all of them."

"All of them?" He paused to observe the mutant's expression.

Xavier's face bore no line of doubt.

"I need to know all the identities of those above 18 years of age. Then I will release the rest off the record while we investigate their histories."

He drove them around the rest of the day. Travelling forward aimlessly through valleys and over hills. She kept her eyes ahead, absorbing the open space with her hands on his laps beside her. The chilly air hit her first, but he lined his arm across her shoulders, controlling the bike with a single hand. Rogue blushed time to time as she shifted in her seat, when her bottom brushes against his you-know-what. He never reacted beyond a slight chuckle in her ear, which she would snap at in her embarrassment.

Just before sunset, they ended up on a white hill, dotted with cyan and magenta, outlined in green. The orange glow on the horizon darkened the sky between black and itself, with tinges of yellow and pink. They settled down to watch time pass in shades of light, indigo followed after pink. As he plucked a few flower petals and threw them over her head for no apparent reason, violet caught up. As she popped a pill, twilight began.

They fell into each other's arms; both had their gloves thrown off into the blooms that surrounded them. Any witnesses of those moments were muted, save for the rustle of crushed grass beneath their bodies. He had watched the tablet roll down her throat, gave digestion a singular moment to respond, and then attacked at her full ferocity. He had shifted himself to sit closer before pulling her hips closer and crashing his mouth into hers. Her arms wrapped around his neck. She ruffled his auburn hair, trailing her bare fingers along the angles of his chiselled face. When she reached his jaw line, he held her hands and pulled them around his narrow back. Without space between them, she toppled over, breaking the kiss and landed on his lean body.

Her legs were apart and his lips accidentally touched the skin of her neck. Then his lips decided to test her neck again, forcing her to breathe harder. Kisses were laid upon her pale skin that was followed closely by goose bumps. The kisses travelled to the back of her neck and behind her ear while his hands slipped under her blouse. Those hands ran up and down playfully, intentions meant only for the curves that her back gave to him. Warm breath and a purr tickled her ear as she sniffed at the fragrant blades of grass before her face. Her hands curled upon his shoulders and she kissed him passionately.

Her tongue met his inside his mouth as she explored the space, caressing his ceiling and licking away at his teeth. His hands moved faster along her spine. His tongue encircled hers and lapped under it. He grinned upon extracting a soft moan. She moved her hands across his chest and up his neck to hold his face. His arms locked her body onto his. She pinned him down.

He felt his consciousness began to trickle away.

Instinctively she sat up, releasing him from her deadly touch. He groaned and rubbed his temples. Reaching out with his long arms, he caught their gloves and they dressed in. He then propped himself on his elbows and chuckled at her anxious expression.

"How'd you like that, cheré?"

"I don't wanna stop, Remy." She took out another.

"Save it. 'Sides it's gettin' cold out here." He sat up and put his hands on the clothed sides of her waist. "Logan won't be happy someone's past her curfew."

She scoffed. "It's my birthday. He ain't gonna tick so much."

"But it's a four three ride, cheré." He laughed. "Continue en route?"

She helped him to his feet and they drove off in the dark, the empty road lit only by a lone spotlight from his bike – simply perfect conditions. She leaned on his chest and gulped the pill down. Removing her gloves once more, she put one of her arms around the back of his neck and with the other hand, stroked the tuft of his goatee. He sat still as she traced his jaw. Her fingertips reached his thin lips, which he kissed. He suddenly stuck out his tongue and saliva caught her nearest finger. She drew back her hand at once in surprise and looked into his glowing red eyes. He lifted his visor and hers. His face drew closer. Her eyelids fluttered slightly before shutting in expectancy. She felt his lips touch hers.

He did not advance. "I need'a drive." He lifted his head away and fixed his sights on the pitch-black road.

Rogue opened her eyes and blinked, realising he just teased her. So, you wanna play this game?

She placed her hands on his laps and pushed herself higher. She raised her head to kiss below his jaw. He inhaled with a grin, keeping his eyes on the road. His grin widened as her lips tried snatching at his. He let her have her fun; she needed this moment after so many years after all. She deserves this. He leaned forward so he could have her back leaning on him. He sighed as she relaxed upon him – a woman's way of displaying her trust. He took a hand off the handle and wrapped it around her waist, slipping it under her shirt. She took his hand back out. He looked down at her. She worked away the grey band and tucked it into her pants pocket. His eyes shone as he felt her pluck at the clothing finger by finger, finally sliding the garment off. Then she let his hand free. His head tilted to the side, smiling.

He put his arm where it belonged and she held onto him, resting her head upon his shoulder. She felt his chest rise and fall with each quiet breath behind her. She listened to the sounds of the night – still, cold and full of rest. The hum of the motor droned on, beyond it the gentle ruffling grasses and whispers of the breeze lulled her senses. The wind was biting her, and she shuddered somewhat.

He noticed her sudden buzz of movement. He took his hand from her waist. Hanging the arm out, he motioned it out of the sleeve of his coat. With one arm free he let the wind pull the entire garb over to his other arm. He took the handle with both hands now.

"Take my coat, cheré." She grabbed it. He let go of the handle that arm held onto. The coat would have flown off, but she put her own arms through it, with the backing in front.

"Thanks." She shifted herself comfortably into his chest once more. Urgh, she kicked herself mentally, stop knocking that _thing_!

"You're welcome." he chuckled. A hush came by them as she curled up in the warmth.

He watched the darkness carefully, focused more on the areas outside the ring of light than what it revealed. The cold never could get its claws into his senses, leaving his mind sharp and aware of the dangers of open roads. There was one of it; the rumble of something huge and heavy turning in from the opposite corner. An eight-wheeler without its headlights on came lumbering by and he swiftly avoided it. He was not one to be sentimental, but some people should never drive. He felt her head roll off his shoulder and onto his arm. She jolted back up before leaning on him again.

He put his arm around her, despite the risks of bare skin.

"Mmmph." she murmured.

"Goodnight, cheré."

An hour later, the roads became lighted with a tangerine glow from lampposts, casting a dim brightness that stunned his sight for an instant. Blinking the moment away, he sped up down the streets, passing a few cars and their drowsy drivers along the way. He drank in the idle ticks of time. Time gave him freedom from it in these wee hours. So much so he believed barely a half hour went as he drove into the institution's garage. He removed her helmet first, letting her locks fall in the relief, then took off his. He tossed the helmets on the floor and lifted her from the vehicle, bridal style. He headed for the elevator and elbowed the button to the first level. When he stepped out, he carried on in the dark, towards her sleeping quarters.

Immediately he was blinded. He stumbled back a pace, shutting his eyes from the glare. Someone grunted at his moment of weakness. He let the light in by a narrow slit and addressed his captor in a low voice, "Alright, you caught me. But first, monsieur, let me put her back."

He sauntered off into the black corridor, and walked the whole passage. He came to her door, shut and he had no more hands. He thought of waking Kitty, sleeping inside, when a hairy arm reached over and noiselessly turned the knob.

"Put her in, bub."

Gambit did, ruefully. He came back out with the cop at his heels. Back in the living hall, he could vaguely make out a person in a wheelchair.

"Professor." He casually saluted the man.

"Gambit," Xavier began on a grave note. "Where were you on the night Rogue had her birthday?"

"Mon. Outside, gettin' her my present." He answered without indecision.

"Exactly what I was hoping you wouldn't say." He turned his head toward the infamous thief.

"Exactly where were you?" Logan growled.

"What?" He needed to throw the guard dogs off his scent. "You want the precise coordinates?"

"That would be nice." Came the gruff reply.

"7185."

"Hmph! Tough."

"Gambit," the professor was unwilling to dilly-dally the night away. "Were you in the warehouse last night?"

"Hmmm? My coordinates say downtown, Holly's Place."

"Are you sure about this?"

"Someone after me?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"The entire government."

"Ah." He crossed his arms. "Nothing new to me."

Xavier looked into the man's eyes, hardened and resolved they were. He sighed and put his fingertips together. "An officer will be coming back in two days. You have until then to clear any doubts."

"Cleared, I assure you." His smile was positive.

"Fine then." Xavier felt the burden float a bit. "Now, into another pressing matter; Logan told me he caught Rogue and yourself in skin contact."

Gambit let a smirk grow.

"How was it possible?" asked the professor.

"Cheré found a way." He waved his hand in the direction of the corridor. "Ten minutes is her record. As long as she doesn't focus on her powers."

"Really?" Logan cut in. "Then why is it you went down after the second kiss?"

"That was my fault. I surprised her."

"Well, I compliment you then, Gambit." Xavier offered a handshake. "If Rogue can gain absolute control, we will have you to thank."

Remy LeBeau shook the professor's hand firmly. He may not have much guilt consciousness, but he felt he had jumped into his own trap. Bidding the two men good evening, he left for his own quarters. He strolled down the numerous passageways to the east wing and unlocked his room. He walked in and shut the door, turning the lock. He ambled to the window and pulled the curtains, then let himself fall into a frenzy. For a second he let panic flood his mind then it cleared away as swiftly. The gears in his scheming mind reeled on as he reached for the packets. He went into his bathroom with them and dropped all but one into the water tank of the toilet bowl. He took out his bottle of mouthwash and drained the colourless minty liquid out. He filled it to the brim with water. He dumped a pill into it and shook the bottle about. He put the sachet with the others.

He put the solution into the cupboard and washed up for some sleep.


	4. You alright, cheré?

**Her Queen of Hearts 4**

His eyes flipped open, awakened, at five. He sat up; his hands reached over to the bedside bureau and extracted a set of cards from the drawer. He shuffled them mindlessly, relishing in the comfort of being in control. The gears in his mind had yet to rest. He was a man of action despite his laid-back nature, forever thinking and finding ways to control his surroundings. At the moment, his surroundings were turning against him. The odds included the professor now. It used to be just the government versus him versus Logan.

He grinned, cunningly, with the thought of that sniffer always nosing his way into his affairs. The ex-soldier never took a liking to his carefree and aloof nature. To Logan, Gambit realised, a carefree man indicated irresponsibility on that man's part. In addition, his hands were now on Rogue, Logan's unofficial ward, whom the soldier has made it his mission to care for and protect while she was within his grasp.

Gambit blinked the thought away; digression only meant zero progress. _Right_, he has a solution. _Yes_, the pills are in the last place anyone would look. _No_, she doesn't know. _Great_, they don't know either. The government is on his tail, he needed an alibi. No problem with that alibi part, one just needs to completely divert the dogs' attentions elsewhere. What could it be?

He put on a pair of black, straight-cut pants and waltzed out of his room to the unlit kitchen. He trailed his hands along the counters to the cupboard sections. Opening the doors silently, he felt about for a water bottle. He took out a decent sized one, the least suspicious of the lot. He squinted to read the label – Evian Mineral Water. Yes, this water will contain _minerals_.

Poof!

Gambit spun around and jumped for the fridge at the sight of the furry night snack-er. Kurt took no notice of him, rather, he yawned. With shut eyes, he walked over to the fridge and attempted to grab the handle that Gambit had opened. The older man picked out a bowl of custard and held it before Kurt's grasping hand. Kurt took it with a goofy smile of gratitude and vanished in a puff of smoke. Gambit let himself into a snigger, grabbed an apple, tossed it around and escaped into his quarters.

Back in his bathroom, he unscrewed the bottle caps and let the contents exchange into a less conspicuous container. He binned the mouthwash bottle and put the water bottle on his small desk. Taking the apple, pulling out a book and flipping the light switch, he believed he was just in time. It was five-thirty.

The corridors began flooding with light. Life would start soon for the adults, followed by the kids, hours later. He would not allow himself to sleep, but would not start the day too early either. Crunching the fruit and browsing through the novel would be his first alibi for the day.

The rest of the time was filled with balancing excuses and reasoning. Gambit searched his experiences, concocting some alibi for the government. 7185, Holly's Place – it was a bar and diner run by a notoriously drunk family. Those dear fellows will swear by anything with an incentive. Easily done.

He glanced at the clock on his bureau. Five-thirty-five.

Chucking the apple down the bin and shoving the book back, he pulled off his pants and underwear for a good warm shower.

He came back out in a towel. He stood for a second at the sight of someone in black lying on his bed, his pillows propped beneath her back. He exchanged smiles with her but proceeded to pull out an outfit from his closet and closed the bathroom door. Upon the second exit, she was upright.

"Where're you off to?"

"Takin' care of some business downtown. Say, Holly's Place." He noticed her face fall. "Won't be long. But if Logan asks, take this."

He handed her the bottle of solution. "A little mix of water and the pill so he won't catch you."

Her eyebrows raised. "You mean, they caught you?" He nodded. "For what? When?"

"Nothin' I couldn't handle. The government showed up yesterday, pickin' on the Professor, then the Professor and Logan came pickin' on mon, carryin' you off to bed." With a grin he added, "You can sleep through anythin', eh cheré?"

She halted in mid-retort. She smiled and walked over, "I really enjoyed las' night, by the way. Thanks Gambit." She laid her sleeves around his neck.

Their noses were an inch apart. Gambit stroked the white streaks away. He looked her in the eye, into the depths of desire and need of another person's touch. He caught her in an embrace instead.

She walked him to the garage, watched him speed away as the auto doors lowered. She had breakfast with the rest, which included curious Kitty who would not quit asking all the 'W's and 'H' of yesterday's date with the Cajun. Rogue cruelly gave in to minor details, but she was still invited to the Sunday all-girls-hangout, to pass the lazy afternoon away.

***

Remy Lebeau sat at the bar with a beer, his manner vague and aloof while being eyed by the regulars and old timers. His presence filled the room with fear; some moved to the next table, some glared him down with hostility, while most tried to keep to themselves. His aura of confidence was still – he did not ask for any of this publicity in the first place.

He swirled the glass around. A barmaid came toward him. Other drinkers watched him address her. She strutted off in relative normality, but returned with the landlord. The pot-bellied man sat on the stool next to the mutant and they talked. A minute later, Gambit found himself in the backroom.

"Why pick my poor house to – ?"

"Because the dogs are gonna be on you anyway you do it. Deal?"

"Have I a choice?" the landlord whined.

Gambit threw a wad of notes onto the wooden tabletop. "Hope this helps."

"It's a poor sum for a favour like – " The pity talk was all cock and bull.

"Like my card, too?"

The landlord ate his tongue at the sight of the orange glow forming on the ace of clubs. "No, sir." he stammered. "Nice doing business with you sir."

Gambit sauntered out of the room and left by the front, the stares lining his trench coat out the door as he went.

***

Rogue did not like shopping malls. Not a wee bit. This new one was no different.

She did not see any sense for them to go _twice_ in a row 'for her sakes'.

She found it suspicious when Jean and Kitty separated themselves from the rest of the pack, pulling her along with them. She walked with the chattering pair, keeping her part of the dialogue short and simple.

They took her to a cafe.

"So..." Kitty started the ice-breaking, sipping on her ice chocolate.

She swallowed her ice mocha chino. "So?" replied Rogue.

"You know..." Jean winked, stirring her latte.

"What else you guys wanna know?"

The other party exchanged glances then turned back to her.

Rogue's intuition kicked in. "What _do_ you guys know?"

"Well, Logan was telling us..."

"Oh." Rogue leaned forward and kept her lips on the straw. "So what _else_ you guys wanna know?"

"Oh, just..." Kitty started again, "You know, how'd you control your powers?"

"Ask Gambit."

"Really, Rogue," Jean put a reassuring hand on her friend's forearm. "Just between us girls, how'd you do it?"

"You really wanna know?" Rogue had only one answer in mind.

The answers were expected.

"Well," She paused to put on the mask. "The truth is, I can't do it without him, like, I need some distraction, like something else to think about, ya' know? So he tried this trick yesterday." She flipped her index at Jean. "You and Scott came afterwards."

"In the kitchen?"

"No, in the hall where we had the party and all."

"I see." answered Jean.

"He kissed me outta nowhere and," She slowed down. Neither Kitty nor Jean giggled.

"I..."

"Didn't..."

"Hurt him."

The thread of suspense pulled tighter within her. She only hoped her past year with Gambit taught her some tricks.

One Mississippi. Two Misssi –

"SERIOUSLY?" squealed Kitty right out loud.

"Shut up!" Rogue tapped down the tabletop quite hard; she did not slam it, instead she was more relieved that they bought it.

"Calm down, Rogue. It's just..." Jean's soothing voice faded.

"Just what?" She pulled her real self together.

"Kinda weird, isn't it? I mean, he kisses you and your powers totally don't work?" Kitty's hands went haywire with gestures. Then she cupped her hand on her chin in a thinking poise, leaning toward her friend. "Must be some make-out, huh?"

"Shut up." Rogue genuinely blushed through her make-up.

"How far did you guys go?" asked Jean, now worried about her younger friend.

"If ya' really need'a know, just a lot of kissin' yesterday." Rogue finished her mocha chino.

"That's all?"

"Yeah." Rogue grumbled under the interrogation. "'Side's we've only got ten minutes."

"Yeah, Logan told us."

Rogue felt lead building deep inside suddenly. "Yeah."

"Hey!" Kitty's eyes spotted something. "Since when you bring water bottles around?"

***

Gambit sat upright then bent forward to hold his ankles, his forehead sunk upon his knees. He breathed out and repeated the procedure. Finally he threw his legs above his head, swinging his glistening body with the momentum created. Landing silently on his bare feet, he recovered from the back flip and swiped a towel off the rack. Upon drying himself, he slung it over his bare shoulder, leaning against the treadmill behind the sit-up benches.

"So what's the deal, bub?" Came the gruff voice of frequently late repetition.

"Deal?" Gambit turned to face him.

"Yeah. How'd that ten minute idea come to your head?"

"What? Not satisfied yet?"

"That's not the question, bub."

"She's too serious. Thought maybe the contraire might be interesting."

"Hmph! Prove it."

"Alright," Gambit shrugged his shoulders, "If you wish to spoil your appétit..."

***

"Scott?"

"Ah, Jean!" replied the one in maroon shades, "You girls are back early."

"Yeah, Rogue didn't wanna shop much." Kitty bustled in with two bags.

The object in mention rolled her eyes. Scanning the hall, Rogue laid the question to the floor.

"Where's Gambit?"

"In ze gym, workin' out. He like, totally ignored us." Kurt waved a blue hand. "Whad' you got there, Kitty?"

"More stuff!" Kitty hugged her merchandise in glee. "You won't believe how much..."

Rogue vanished with her water bottle in dread.

She came jumping in just in time to overhear their conversation. Logan was the last voice, "Dinner ain't till much later."

"What's goin' on?" She walked right in. At the sight of Logan, she began to uncap the water bottle.

"Just in time, Rogue." rumbled Logan, "Tell 'er, bub."

Rogue felt her eyes popping at the sight. His tall body stood sideways from her angle. The glint of sweat reflected enough from fluorescent lamp for her to notice the knots of muscle that made up his abdomen. His bare chest was held high and yet relaxed at the shoulders. His skin hugging pants left nothing out of the silhouette. She wanted to scratch her own eyes out, struggling to not look at what beheld downstairs. "Well cheré, he caught me again. Gotta prove you get control by _distracting_ you."

With that he closed the gap between them and leaned in. His arm swooped beneath her and her head tilted back, making some of the water spill over her and drip onto the floor.

"Nice move, bub."

Remy helped her up and she gulped down some. She moved in for a kiss.

"Get changed first, Rogue. I don't think wet clothes fit 'ya." Logan barked.

She left upstairs and came back down in dryer attire. Coming to the hall, she found the place cleared except for the usual gang and a dressed Remy LeBeau standing in the middle of everyone. She gulped down another dose before stepping into the light and greeted by eager faces. Rogue was quite torn between perspectives as she walked toward him.

Are they excited over my finally controllin'? Or do they just wanna see me kiss him? They look really curious; about which?

He tilted his head to the side, those red eyes glowing into hers. His coat was off and he stood, his athletic physique outlined by his uniform. He took her gloved hands and held them up to his face. He kissed them chivalrously. He looked into her eyes. He leaned in. She stepped forward. Their clasped hands were held by their sides as their bodies touched. The gasps and awed noises rang in both their ears, but they kept their lips on each other. Rogue pulled off her gloves and chucked them aside, putting her hands on his bare face. He laid his hands on her waist. Unconsciously, she felt her leg lift off the ground.

"Alright, you two made your point." huffed Logan. Peals of laughter and remarks fell on the couple's deaf ears.

Gambit had pulled away, but was still holding onto her waist. He winked.

She blushed. Then her eyes widened. Her mouth gaped open. Then shut closed. She looked like a blushing goldfish.

"Well, I can't say it's very decent." Scott broke in. "But I guess – "

"Gambit!" cried Rogue. "_Whaddaya'_ happened to ya' clothes?"

Gambit stared a moment, gobsmacked. He recovered after a split. "What'd you say, cheré?"

"Your – Your clothes!" She poked the black designs on his uniform. "It's gone all white!"

"You alright, cheré?"

"Rogue?"

"Hey Rogue, you okay?"

"He's still wearing black, Rogue."

"It's not like he changed in, like, a jiffy, you know?"

"But – " Remy laid a finger on her lips.

"Want a walk, cheré? Maybe some fresh air might do you good."

Rogue stared blankly, shook her head and looked at him again. There he stood, hand stretched toward her, in his black uniform.

She halted. I thought...

She took his hand. He eyed her hard with concern as he pulled her along outside.

When they were among the trees and out of earshot, he sat her down on a log with himself beside her. He put an arm around her shoulders, listening to her sigh then slid his hand around her waist. He shifted closer so their outer thighs touched. He squeezed her side.

"I...Sorry, Remy." Rogue started.

"What happened?"

"I thought..." Her voice trailed away in uncertainty.

"What did you see?"

"I must've seen wrongly."

His arm still around her, he took her hands together. "Alright?"

"Yeah. I think so."

"Well," he nuzzled into her neck, shielded by her red hair. "Wanna finish something?"

"If we're caught, Logan's gonna – "

"It'll be worth it, mon cheré." He unscrewed the cap and tipped the bottle through her awaiting lips.

He put the cap onto the mouthpiece. He had no chance to tighten the cap when she caught his lips, ravenous, her bare hands clutching his arms. She pulled in and out, crashing harder into him each time. The fire of anticipation every time she parted from him sent a tremor through his veins, forcing him to hastily finish the job. He chucked the unbefitting bottle and pulled her onto his lap, his hand holding her thigh and the other supporting her waist. Her butt felt the bump.

She broke the kiss. She kept her eyes on his, and closed they were. Splitting her legs so she could wrap them around his waist, she saw his eyes dash open and jaw drop for an amusing instant. He was ever so taken aback.

"Cheré..." he breathed.

She pushed forward, toppling them off the log, landing on him again. He sat them up. Her hips surrounded his groin. She hoisted herself on her knees so her head was above his, holding his head up and plunging in. His chin rested in the centre of her collarbone and his neck was accompanied at the sides. He caressed her back down to her thighs, skipping over her butt; it was all he could do to avoid letting his itching fingers snake over those two humps hugging his neck. Her tongue dug into his mouth. His pushed her back out and guarded his territory by running over his lips.

"Fast learner..." he whispered.

She attacked the sides of his mouth, licking against his tongue.

"Great teacher..."

His tongue retreated into its cave, letting her intrude and wander in the warm, wet space. She tapped the roof and tried to reach for him. He poked her tip, drawing her deeper inside. Suddenly his lips closed on her. His lips pulled at her tongue, leaving her helplessly caught within him. He tongued her while she was in his grasp, twirling torturously around and around. She clutched his shoulders, moaning at the surge that erupted through her body.

"Remy..." she gasped and her knees began to tremble.

He caught her. He dragged his teeth down her tongue, slowly, relishing in her extended moans.

He finished. Her knees dropped her, triggering a pleasurable grunt from him. He watched her expression gradually grow from intoxicated to dreamy. Under her curiosity, he leaned back. He watched the soft rays of light draw the curves of her silhouette, grinning. He walked a pair of his fingers along her thighs. Suddenly her eyes expanded to large plates.

"Hey!" Rogue tapped his arm and he took his eyes off her humps.

"Yes?"

"I'm not going there."

"Alright, cheré." He fixed his gaze on her huffed look. She leaned down on him, head on his chest, sighing as he ran his hand over her hair.

"You know I love you."

She snuggled against him. "Yeah, sure."

"No. Honestly."

She laughed. "Since when?"

"You wound me..."

Rogue poked his prideful chest, extorting a light-hearted laugh.

He lay back on the soft grass, clasping his hands behind his head. His eyes traced the lines of light penetrating through the single thin layer of leaves. The branches overhead reached for the sun, cracked and rough with peeling bark. Somewhere above to his left he heard a soft chatter.

He patted her head and pointed at two squirrels bounding across the branches, dancing around each other over an acorn. She rolled off him onto the grass beside him, leaning on his firm arm as a head support. He put that arm around her. The lovers lay there, watching clouds roll and listening to leaves rustle around them.

Rogue took a breath. If only this silence would never end. She looked at him. His eyes were closed, absorbing in the natural atmosphere. Her eyelids also began to feel weighted. Maybe a five...

Something tickled her nose. She swatted it away but heard a chuckle instead of a satisfying buzz. She blinked and finally awoke to an orange line in a starry sky.

"Good evening, cheré. Did you have a nice nap?"

"Whoa!" She rubbed her eyes in utter disbelief. "What kind of time is it?!"

"Dinnertime." He stood, offered his hand and pulled her onto her sleepy feet.

She yawned, covering her gaping mouth with a gloved hand. "Mmmph. But it _was_ a good nap."

"For you, cheré." He stretched his right arm, twisting it in circular motions around his shoulder blade with a groan. He jerked his head to the left and Rogue heard a symphony of stiffened bones cracking. "Ah."

"Sorry. My bad."

"I never said _I_ didn't enjoy it." He had that grin again. "Was very nice sleeping next to you..."

"Urgh!" She pushed him away by the chest.

He saw that smile crawl onto her blushing features before she turned away. He laughed and offered her his arm as they walked back into the mansion. She held it and pressed her cheek against it.

He felt her grasp loosen. He lost the touch of her fingers. He glanced down and threw his arms to catch her before her head cracked against the foyer stairs. He bent over the unconscious girl, searching her features zealously for life. Her chest heaved. He held up her head and let it roll onto his chest. Slipping an arm under her knees, he carried her to her bedroom and stayed for awhile in the light of her bedside lamp.

What the hell just happened?

He sat on a chair by her side, holding her limp gloved hand. He patted it and kissed it, stroking the cloth softly. He sighed silently and put it down. He got up and untied her shoelaces, carefully removing them and setting them down. He held a laugh at the thought of helping her change into her pyjamas, shaking the notion away. Pulling the covers over her, he decided to catch some dinner before the kids consumed everything.

Interrogation seized him as soon as it spotted his face. He replied she fell asleep on the lawn and he did not have the heart to wake her. A couple of nods and they travelled to some other topic. He sat down on the last chair at the far end.

"So, Gambit," Scott started as he passed the new potatoes down. "How you find the mansion?"

"Not so deadly." Gambit handed the sautéed mushrooms over to the fuzzy boy.

A few laughs came on.

"Define deadly. Pass the burgers, Sam." Kurt called over.

Gambit snatched the dish before his furry fingers could grab the last patty. Smiling into the boy's indignant look, he replied. "Your comrades don't kill you for doing _this_."

"Yeah." His indigo eyes watched the meat and the last drops of the gravy plop into the plate. "We do this!"

Kurt made a reach toward the plate and teleported, sending smoke into Gambit's face. He had anticipated the kid was going to try something cute, so he shoved the empty dish into his face. Kurt reappeared with oil on the tips of his fur.

The table erupted with laughter.

"Serves you right, Kurt!" yelled Kitty from the opposite side.

Gambit smiled then pointed at the salad. "Please."

***

Rogue groaned and rubbed her temples, rolling over her side. She opened her eyes to pitch black. A platter on her bedside and a note told her she missed dinner. She could not remember why. Taking the cold food with her, she decided to find the guy with the answers.


	5. Mondays & Tuesdays

**Hey dudes! First, a word for all readers whether you reviewed or not!**

**Thank you all so much for your support and comments! Apologies, this chapter took so long.**

**Her Queen of Hearts 5**

She found him under the sheets and shirtless, propped up by pillows and absorbed in a novel under the light of his bedside lamp. He glanced at the door and shoved the book aside. She took it as the cue to shut the door.

She turned and bumped into his bare chest. She was rooted to the ground as he took the plate from her hands.

He took her arm and squeezed it, looking into her eyes. He dumped the plate on the nearby dresser then held her.

"Mon cheré!" He spoke at a low volume. "Feelin' better?"

A smile broke on her face. "Yap. Thanks for abandoning me back there."

"Didn't want to."

"What happened anyway? How'd I pass out?"

"I don't know, for sure, cheré." He took her hands apologetically. "But I'll always be there."

"Remy...?" she said with an edge of confusion. "What're you talking about?"

"T'morrow the government's coming back. Hopefully they buy mon story, with my reput' and all."

She tried her most confident tone. "I'm sure the Professor can cook up something..."

"I won't count on anything and anyone, cheré, 'cept you and my own." He stared at her hands for a moment, contemplating. He raised his eyes. "But I'll be here for you."

***

The next morning was typically a typical Monday. The school-goers formed an extensive line for the bathrooms, which could have been much shorter if it were not for Jamie Madrox and himself multiplied by six.

Rogue returned from Gambit's bathroom with perfectly brushed hair and splendid make-up. Everyone let fly in their morning moods a piece of their envy while she walked past with her backpack slung over her shoulder. If she got to class early, there was a high chance she can race home earlier too.

School was a damned bore. Sixth period was the bloody worst.

Rogue felt like dozing off in physics, mindlessly flipping page after page as the teacher said to. She was slumped against the back of her seat, arms crossed and eyelids drooping.

Finally the bell chimed a beautiful ring! She rose from her seat and zipped home, met with an empty hall save for Storm. The dark lady sent her white hair spinning as she turned to the early bird, putting a finger over her lips.

"Who else's in there?" asked Rogue excitedly.

"Logan's in, as well as Gambit, if that's what you're asking." The lady understood her students very well.

She spun to face her, surprised. "Why's Logan in?"

"The agent's brought friends. He's keeping eyes on them." Suddenly she leaned in, growling, "And I have my eyes on you, Rogue."

Rogue jolted up. She looked up into the face of Physics. She laid a hand on her pounding chest.

"My eyes are on you. Last chance, Rogue. When an object is placed between its focal point, F, and 2F, is it real and inverted? Or virtual and upright?" He gestured to the board. "Not forgetting, is it diminished or magnified?"

She squinted her eyes at the diagram drawn.

"Never mind." The teacher shook his head and took a stack of papers from his desk. "I didn't want it to come to this, but if one student fails to pass then all must prove their standing. Pass the tests down. Any extras pass them to your right."

The whole class groaned and bitterly cursed mutants under their breath, some took it out loud. Rogue sunk deeper into the chair with a frown. She took her pen and wrote her name.

R-O-G-U- whoa!

Her pen flipped out of her hand and clattered onto the floor, giving her already unhappy classmates another reason to hate her kind.

She sheepishly picked it up and started on the first question.

Divide sin x by –

Her hand went white with the sudden iron grip on her pen. It began to tremble and shake uncontrollably, as if it were dipped in freezing water. Then it stopped. She sighed in relief and lifted her hand to write. It refused to budge.

She tried again. Her limb fell limp down her side and the pen clattered once more. Sweat began to form on her brow. She needed to ace this dumb test! She shook her arm and it wagged after her shoulder motion. A blush warmed her cheeks as she lifted her right arm with her left hand. It dropped like a soft cabbage leaf onto the table.

Rogue breathed in. Rogue breathed out. She took the pen in her left hand and prayed deep inside, that the teacher can read her other hand's handwriting.

She shuffled out of the school doors as soon as it was all over, into the sight of an auburn-haired motorcyclist loitering on the grounds. He stood leaning on the bike, smiling nonchalantly, unaware. She steadied her walk to a slow pace, approaching him and clutching onto her textbook. He pursed his lips and kept the cards. He walked toward her, opening his arms.

"What's wrong?"

"I failed semester."

"How – "

Whack! Remy learned all of Newton's three laws of physics the instant a thick science book descended on his head.

He rubbed the throbbing point with a groan. "Had a bad day?"

"Just drive!"

Without understanding the gravity of the situation, he fell silent and drove.

As they entered the gates that swung before them, she spoke softly, "I'm sorry, Remy. It's just –"

"You had a bad day. I'm alright." He turned behind to look at her.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what happened. I fell asleep in class so the teach' gave us a pop quiz. My hand just suddenly spazzed out and I-I couldn't write. It just wouldn't move! I don't know what's wrong with me." She suddenly groaned and clutched her head. "And now I've got this splittin' headache."

He parked the bike and leaped off it, taking their helmets and putting them away. He felt her forehead with the back of his gloved palm. "C'mon. I'll carry you."

He held out his arms to carry her bridal style. He liked it when a smile appeared on her purple lips.

"I'm alright." Something pounded her brain and she held her head again with a groan.

"C'mon, cheré. Don't be stubborn."

He came closer and turned, sitting an inch on the motorcycle seat. He bent down slightly. She took the cue without argument and feebly swung a leg over around his narrow waist. Her other leg locked around him too and she hugged his neck from behind, leaning on his back. He stood up gracefully, hands under her thighs for support and walked to her room. He detoured from the hall this time.

Settling her on her bed, he removed her sneakers for her and pulled the sheets over.

She pushed them away. "It's really warm today." She laid her forearm across her forehead with a sigh.

He pulled a chair, hung his trench coat on the back and sat down next to her, laying his hand on her forehead again. From the heat that passed through the cloth of his glove, he could tell there was sudden rise. He held her hand. "I'll get you some water."

"Yeah. Thanks, Remy." She smiled lightly.

He stroked his fingers over her hand while he walked away. She rested her head on the fluffy pillow, staring at the ceiling. Birds chirped outside. The curtain fluttered with the soft breeze that came by. What little wind came in tickled her pale skin. She shuddered and towed the covers on. Where'd the fever come from?

She heard chattering outside her door. She shifted her eyes to glance in that direction. A sharp pain twanged behind her eyeballs. She rolled them back and shut her eyes tight. They opened when the pain faded. She cringed at the searing glare of light. She pulled the covers over her head. It was warm and stuffy underneath. A rapid torrent of blows began to ram into her head, forcing her to clutch impulsively at her hair. The blows kept coming. And coming. And coming. She bit her tongue down. She clenched her teeth. She wanted to scream.

He came to a corridor, once peaceful and empty, to one surrounded by chattering monkeys called 'her friends'. With a glass in one hand and a flask in the other, he shooed them off. When at last the noise cleared out, he heard her.

He swiftly rushed to her side at the sight of a whining creature that hid herself under the sheets. He tried to pry her clasped hands loose, only to aggravate the situation.

Rogue began to twist and turn underneath, pulling the blanket around herself. She wanted to tear it away, to tear the pain away! What are those hands trying? She tightened her grip. Don't touch me! Don't touch me! Let go! It hurts! It hurts! Stop! STOP!

He ripped the sheets from her hands and threw them to the foot of her bed with a grunt. She was always a strong one.

She jerked her back against the light and sealed her eyes, moaning. She heard the scraping of heavy curtains pulled across. Footsteps paced toward her followed by a sense of depression in the bed next to her pillow – someone has sat down. She could smell the cologne. A pair of gentle hands laid themselves on her upper arms and ran to her hands, asking for her trust. She removed her hands and opened her eyes to complete darkness. The shadows comforted her eyes. They grew adjusted to the lightless surroundings. Despite the throbs, she noticed foremost a pair of red rings aimed at her from above as her hands were held.

He ushered her to sit up and lean back on his chest. "Drink, cheré." The chill of a glass on her lips beckoned her to open them. She took the glass from his hands and sipped. He wrapped a protective arm around her shoulder, preventing both a fall and a slip.

He heard her gulp down the water as he shifted closer to her. Their outer thighs touched. He put a second arm around her waist, feeling her breathe as she sighed into his ear. He laid the glass away and laid her head back on the pillow. He felt her fingers entwining themselves with his. He swept away the strands of hair on her face and stroked her forehead. Her temperature was blissfully regular.

He lay down on his side next to her, head propped up by his elbow. He kissed the cloth of the hand that held his. He looked into her pale face.

"It hurts..." she whined like an abused puppy.

"Don't move." he whispered as he pulled out full-length gloves from his pocket. "Don't speak." He lifted her head and pulled away her pillow, replacing it with his lap.

He placed his thumbs on her temples and the rest of his fingers at the back of her head. He rubbed circles on her temples, slow and strong against the throbbing pain. He switched directions, pressing his thumbs into her head. He traced two separate trails to her forehead, drawing circles in opposite directions. He felt her expression relax. He massaged away the stressed creases from her skin. He soothed her thin, knotted eyebrows into their curvature. Her lips closed as she stopped baring her teeth, curling upwards under his intoxicating touches.

He swiftly arched his fingers and swiped them to the top of her head. He had struck the lines of sensitive nerves lined across her scalp, causing her to gasp in delight as a prickling wave swept through her skin. He smiled and arranged his five fingers further behind her skull. He swiped again, drawing that ecstatic cry from her.

She snuggled down in pure pleasure.

He bent over and whispered, "It's better when you turn over."

She leaped to the notion without a second thought, lightly flipping herself over so her chin rested on his thigh. He felt two warm hands place themselves beside her head, one on his knee and the other so close to his crotch. He closed his eyes and took a breath – the closeness, the darkness, the aloneness, the heat and her made him feel _good_. He nodded away the thoughts in his pants back into reality; it was not about him, he has to do this right.

He laid his fingers across her skull, rubbing small circles into different areas of her scalp. He heard the soft purr emitting from below and he pressed harder, relishing in the sweet moans of her lowered voice. He walked his fingers through her hair, covering more hurting ground. He slid his hands to the back of her head. He pulled the thin skin along the beginning of her spinal cord, sending jolts down her back. He pulled down to the back of her neck and rubbed up and down. She shivered under his expert touch as wave after wave of ecstasy made her head swim, drowning the pain away.

For the fun of it, he arched his fingers once more across her head and swiped upwards, releasing a satisfying "Oomph." followed by an "Oh, Remy. How'd you do that..."

"Ah." He stroked her hair slowly, letting her enjoy the fading effect.

"Tell me." she moaned drowsily.

"Oh, I don't know, Rogue." He slotted his fingers at the sides of her neck and squeezed gently.

She hunched her head and shoulders together in a ticklish shock. With a giggle she tried to pull his hands away. He prodded her in the soft of her side. She exclaimed and rolled off his lap, grabbing her pillow behind him and upright on her knees. He reached out in the direction of her voice and handled her waist. She recoiled in laughter but in spite of the tickling distraction, she aimed the pillow at the two glowing red orbs. His head turned under the force but he kept his fingers on task, sending her squirming. She hit him with the pillow again and again. He was against the head rest now; she had him cornered like a rat.

But the rat launched his hand around her neck and behind her ears lightly, triggering the girl's sensitive hairs. He was thumped with her pillow again until he was lying flat on her bed in fierce merriment. He had released her and let himself be pummelled, laughing wholeheartedly as the feathery wallops tumbled onto his face and chest.

With one final whack, she puffed, her limbs relaxed.

He jerked up and seized her waist. He pulled her down beside him. Flinging the pillow aside from between them, they laid close together, breathing heavily.

She blushed in the darkness. Her knee was a mere inch from his lower anatomy, she knew it. Her chest was even closer to his. She laid her hands on his solid chest, feeling each string of muscle lined plainly beneath her fingers. She lowered her hands over the bumps along his fit abdomen. His chest protruded above, perfected and smooth. Her breathing raced as she stopped at his belly button.

It was his turn to have a temperature rise. He could tell her breathing from the way her breasts moved onto and away from his chest. He let his lips part in want, hypnotised by the sizzling moment. His heartbeat sped on as his hands wandered around her hips. His fingers travelled up and over her stomach, over her small abs, toned by the constant mutant fights and training. His fingertips touched the undersides of the beautifully round pair. He froze.

She smiled. She took one of his hands and pulled it around her curvy waist, the other under her head for her to lie upon. He wrapped the latter arm around to stroke her hair.

"Won't you just kiss me now?" She suggested, slipping her hand into her back pocket.

"Actually, Rogue –"

An impatient pounding at the door resounded.

"I know you're _both_ in there!" hollered Logan. "I can smell you, you card-flippin' bub. The Prof' wants you in his study now. Government's here."

Rogue scrunched his clothes.

"A minute." Gambit replied.

***

Remy Lebeau required no introduction when he entered the study. Both heads did not turn in his direction, being absorbed in their own discussion. He stood behind the second chair across the Professor and laid his hand on the back. The Professor invited him to take a seat.

The agent scanned Gambit head to toe. He went eyeball to eyeball with the suspect.

Gambit did not look away but neither did he stare his judge straight in the eye.

The agent broke his own gaze and clicked open his briefcase. He pulled out some papers and laid them out neatly before the mutants. Gesturing to each sheet, he began to lay out the facts and conclusions to them. They had no solid evidence to convict 'this mutant' of any real crime, but his reputation serves as a sufficient foundation to base theories on.

The mutant mentioned blinked slowly. Professor Xavier mentally shared his thoughts. Gambit was resolute.

"How would you take action against someone based on theories?"

"If your word is true, Professor, which is that this man was nowhere near the scene of crime at the time the crime took place, then I can only put his person under suspicion. Neither legal action nor arrest will be taken at the moment, but our eyes are fixed on his person and for any activities that prove otherwise innocent. If anything suspicious were to occur in his presence, we will have to consider it perjury."

"May I?"

"Carry on, Lebeau." ushered the professor.

"Where's the fire?"

"The stolen goods are classified government property."

"Au fait."

"Excuse me?"

"Understood."

***

Whoever said the government could not eat bull's crap?

Gambit leaned back in the study, one leg balanced on the knee of the other.

"Tell me, Lebeau." said the professor when the agent drove out of the grounds. "Is Rogue fit enough to resume her duties?"

"As an X-man? Or as a student?"

"Is she well? I had overheard her thoughts."

"Weakened, but not helpless."

"I gathered so much. You would not have left her side unless to aid her more." Professor Xavier put his fingertips together and a line of thought creased his previously smooth forehead. "Might I entrust you with this: this government agent's appearance bears ill omen to us as an organisation that is already disliked by the general public. This may be but another seed to dashing our hopes of a legal existence."

"What do you need?"

"Stay within the mansion grounds for the remaining week ahead. Reduce your personal activities to indoor options."

"And for Rogue?"

"You may continue your relationship as both see fit. I'll not implement any regulations on responsibility. You're both too grown for such lectures." He waved dismissively.

"Thanks Professor." He gave a slight bow and sauntered out, squeaky clean from tip to toe.

***

Rogue had risen out of bed and was with rest of the X-men gang lounging in the hall over a conversation.

"Not going to jail?" asked Summers.

"No evidence." Lebeau sat next to her and put his arm on the sofa head.

"You were saying, Kitty?" Summers beckoned the conversation back into order.

"Yeah! So I was thinking – Can you guys take it outta here?"

All eyes turned to the groping couple. Remy had his arm around her waist and had pulled her close. She had her hand on his thigh. His hand held her cheek.

***

"Don't you guys ever take a break?" complained Kitty when Rogue and herself were slipping under their sheets.

"I love this. Touching another human being." Rogue replied with a satisfied sigh. "I just can't stop."

"Yeah? Well," her roommate shook her head. "You're hopeless."

"And Lance is...?" she teased.

"Lance is _what_?"

"Nothing." Rogue turned over to sleep.

"_What_?"

"He's a bad boy too."

"Yeah. So?"

"I'm just surprised you guys never kissed."

"I kissed him!"

"On the cheek. C'mon Kitty!"

"Oh, just shut up. I wanna sleep in peace!"

"You started this convo..."

***

The next day, a team of mutants found themselves suited up and standing in the Danger Room. Supervising them was Logan, who assured them it would be just a morning workout before school started.

Gambit shook his head next to Logan. To the latter, perhaps yes, it _is_ a workout. To the kids?

He begged her to skip today's training, repeating that she would be safer taking the action off her schedule for awhile. She could not be deterred. Her mind was altogether stubborn and relentless as she marched into the Danger Room with him on her heels. He sighed as the metal doors shut.

His eyes were fixed on Rogue as the scene changed into a vast, empty wasteland of jagged rocks and narrow, winding walkways suspended in mid air. The place was such a form of dreamscape that it bore Remy Lebeau, actually. The usual routine that he found useless in real times made him breathe deeply, in place of a yawn, that they had to stick together and reach the end point as an entire team. They should be trained to fight solo, not be dependable on others to cover one's back. Nonetheless he had seen these kids in action and understood that they worked as one, covering their own backs together.

Scott led the team, naturally, cautiously manoeuvring them through the maze. His hand kept itself on the side of his visor. Jean walked calmly and elegantly, keeping her mind at bay. Kitty and Kurt were directly behind the redhead. Rogue clenched her hands. Those in the newer bunch kept their cool.

A shrill spinner approached from behind, spitting orange paintballs directly at them. Gambit shifted his eyes and watched a laser beam send the machine exploding.

Soon a dozen appeared from all quarters. The kids had triggered their own trap.

Jean held up her force field. Kurt teleported with Kitty onto one of the machines. She phased through it and messed its system. The engine failed and tumbled into the abyss. Someone iced one and another threw a load of fireworks at it. So far, so good.

Metal spheres flew into the scene. Easily disposed of as any blast of whatnots sent the balls into splinters. But they were a mere distraction to the gigantic ones that were rolling from either side of the walkways! Magma melted them down, but more came rolling and falling out of the sky. The paintballs kept coming and the machines whirred faster. The walkway became squashed as the kids began to cluster. Finally Jean could not hold her field any longer. She forced her power to expand rapidly, knocking the flying objects off their courses. She collapsed on her knees.

Rogue stepped in now. Jean's mind was exhausted. She pulled her glove and touched the lady with her fingertip. She felt the surge of power flowing into her. Jean held her head as Rogue pulled her up, supporting her over her shoulder. She saw Wolfsbane cornered over the edge. Tapping her memory, she lifted the canine into the air.

As the number of threats began to reduce, Scott found his voice. "Let's move!"

Rogue lifted Jean as well, and the three ladies flew behind Scott, followed by everyone else. They would each turn several times to watch their backs were not getting painted.

Then in mid-flight, her mind gave way.

She felt a draining sensation, like an invisible pair of lips sucking at her consciousness. Her flying became unsteady. She floated in zigzags and rose and fell. She shook her head to wake herself up. Her limbs started to drop to her sides. Her legs dangled with gravity. Her brain felt heavy. She felt the ground beneath her feet. Voices spoke loudly overhead. Hands reached around to grab someone to help.

A pounding resounded at the back of her skull. The knocking became harder. The exploding metal and their words drilled it selves into her brain. It beat her violently. She clutched her head. She pulled at her hair in the agony.

* * *


	6. Merde French for Shit

**Apologies for the bloody late update! School has been eating my time like it owns me lately. I wrote this stuff in class and had it confiscated, TWICE, during math tests. _[Insert vulgar adjective]_ teachers thought I was cheating because the fullscap papers were side by side. Apparently they can't tell the difference between English and 1+2=5.**

**Enough gossip, damn it! It is my pleasure to present you with the SIXTH CHAPTER. Enjoy! Review and tell me it's not crap.**

* * *

**Her Queen of Hearts 6**

A breathing corpse lay on the medical bed, a dripper in her wrist and oxygen plugs up her nose. She wore the green robe for patients. Her middle finger was slotted into a sensor that sent a monitor next to her bed beeping monotonously for each strong heartbeat. A plastic fibre-coated sensor attached to another computer behind the first screened her brain. The organ was portrayed with many colours representing the stresses of brainwave activities conducted by each region. Ever since he had carried her in and they plugged her up, the colours had remained mild, indicating her brain was functioning less than her body required.

Her hair was strewn around her head and her mouth was slightly parted.

It was fortunate her breathing and major organs still worked. Only her nervous system was weakened. This explains her short distortion in sight, the fainting spells, her muscles failure to respond, the headaches, and the recently celebrated power control.

The situation may have been worse, far worse, Professor McCoy concluded calmly. Because the nervous system controls the body, several other more serious bodily functions may have shut down as well. Her vision may have disappeared entirely, her nervous system may have shattered beyond repair, her brain could have failed and most certainly instant death would follow.

Remy had halted those damned machines himself before he rushed down and slithered through the crowd. He rushed to her side, holding her drooping head up and calling her name. He looked upon her face. Pale. Still. Lifeless.

He felt her pulse. A faint rhythm repeated itself under the pressure of his fingertip. He cradled her to his chest as the commotion of raised voices was blurred by his own thoughts. Should he let them? Let them take a look? Let them take a look at her? Find out what is wrong with her? It was his fault! Could they find out? No. No chance. What could he do?

He lifted her up and stood tall. Quietly, he said, "Let's get her to the hospital room."

He blinked.

The kids were so easily excitable. Only when a roar from Logan erupted, they let the silence hang. The professor then took the moment to place his fingertips at the sides of his temples. His mind faded into her dark world. It was too dark.

"Alright kids. Move out. The Prof' will need time."

"My sister will be okay, right Logan?"

"I hope so too, Elf."

"Rogue's strong. She can do it! C'mon guys. I'll drive." Kitty tried to lighten the mood.

The door shut behind them, leaving the two men and the professor. Remy knew he could not stay. He walked over toward her and kneeled by her side. Taking her hand, he patted it gently.

Logan cocked a brow but kept quiet out of politeness.

_I am willing to take the risk. They will be waiting for me but I will come back for you. They won't touch you, and for awhile I probably won't either. There's nothing for it except losing you. You'll be safe. There are better people looking out for you. Don't wait up for me. I'll be back very late._

He lowered his head. "_Pardonner ta amant_¹." He raised his head from her hand. He walked past Wolverine, who laid a hand on his shoulder.

"You're just gonna leave her here?"

"You'd better not." He shrugged the hand off and left the room.

The next moment he was speeding out in broad daylight, fully clad in his uniform. _No side effects_, it said. _An antidote for the drug was made to restore the primary condition of the consumer_. Oh, he gripped the handles tighter, it better be worth so much.

***

"How about it, Prof?" asked Logan, concern leaking in his rough voice as the professor slowly raised his head. "She's gonna be better?"

"She will. The drug in the pill had affected her neurobiological system by tampering with her powers, or more specifically, her ability to control her powers."

"What on earth are you talkin' about, Charles?"

"Rogue's ability to control powers was an absolute hoax, conjured by our new friend, who I believe, has sped faraway by now, looking for the antidote."

"Sped where? I'll break his neck!"

"I was focused on Rogue. I only heard him speak."

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know." An upset glare from his friend sent more worry lines onto his forehead. "I really don't know."

***

He rubbed the numbness out of his backside while standing by the entrance of a dumpsite. Five damned hours on a bike had killed all the nerves below. He felt all ready to drop out of fatigue but pushed himself to bury the vehicle under a pile of discarded garbage. He dusted his soiled hands. He kept a wary eye on his surroundings, his senses forced alert by instinct. He walked out of the junk yard and slipped with the passing crowd.

It was a typical workday evening when urban dwellers mindlessly made their way home. He treaded gingerly on enemy ground, his metal pole unsheathed by his side and cards at the ready. He turned into a back alley. Lifting and closing a pothole above him, he slid down the filthy ladder and crouched in the darkness. A few minutes passed before he noiselessly made his way through the echoes of running water. Like a cat with glowing red eyes he pawed along the walls until his sharp ears pricked at a tiny sound. Muffled clanging of metal from below could be heard.

He ran his lean fingers along the walls. He felt the grill of a ventilator higher up the wall. A cooling breeze blew through his fingers. He hauled himself up. Putting his nose to it, he inhaled the air of a sanitised environment, air-conditioned. He traced the circumference of the vent. About four by two, enough for him to slither into. He tried the unlatching the grills, but they were sealed tight into the wall itself. He drew severalccharged lines and sliced the grills away. He laid it down as he crawled on his belly into the vent. A few good yards forward in pure shadow he felt a steep, descending slope downwards.

Securing himself with his hands and feet pressed on the sides of the vent, he let himself slide down about thirty feet. He kept his back against a surface. Beads of sweat began to form on his brow. The sides began to curve and he grasped that the vent had straightened out below him. He knelt on a flat surface once more, only to realise he faced an end. He fingered behind him and found the vent continued behind him. He slowly did a constricted somersault and crawled in the opposite direction. He was beneath the sewer at the moment.

Gambit believed it was a mile before he turned a corner and spotted lines of light shine before him. They shone in square segments with calculated spacing in between each of them. He pressed his ear against the cold metal. The hum of an engine vibrated through the plate. He moved slower. Stopping just at it, he listened for the slightest sound. Irregularly paced breathing entered his ears. He blinked a few times then risked a peek. He recoiled almost immediately.

A skeleton wrapped in shrivelled skin, head devoid of a strand, lay on a white bed in a clean, white room. The pitiful creature was dressed in a white robe. The lad was no taller than five foot two. Or was it a lass? He presumed he or she was no older than fourteen. He crawled silently over the opening.

He looked down the next vent. A grown man fervently paced his cubicle in dizzy circles. He was more nourished than the child, but it was evident he was mentally unsound.

"...I will get my puppy. I will. I WILL! I WANT A PUPPY! Soon. Soon. Soon..." he chuckled and rubbed his hands in glee.

Gambit shook his head and carried on his task. He passed several more captured mutants before the tunnel ended abruptly. He pressed his ear against the wall and tapped lightly. A dull vibration echoed. He dotted the surface with a charged fingertip and peeked through the hole created. An empty corridor – _parfait _(perfect)!

He glanced sideways. _Merde_ (Shit). The crazy folks were on exhibition along the passage. An idea sprung.

He scanned for security cameras. Three of them surrounded the scene – one beside him, one just across and the last lens was on the floor. He dotted more holes around the first one. He pulled the metal away easily, and sent three charged cards at the cameras. Upon explosion the alarm sounded, as he knew they would, and he jumped down. He ran down the passage, drawing his finger across the screens of the cubicles. As he darted into the next room, the freed mutants ran havoc behind him.

He recognised the maze he sprinted through, praying hard his map studying was fully retained. He turned corner after corner through the void space until he came to a sealed room. 'High Security Room. Only Research Personnel Allowed.' was the label. This place was surely tight with automated alarm systems inside the robotic doors. A bead of sweat dripped down his neck. He glanced about.

Suddenly the doors began to spin, revealing a hole that grew bigger with each cycle. Gambit dashed aside. A stooped man emerged with an electronic screen in hand, absorbed in the cybernetics.

He seized the chance. He found himself being stared down by hundreds of cabinets and shelves protruding out of the walls. It was more of a domed cathedral of chemicals and laboratory equipment with a ceiling at least five storeys high than a 'high security room'. There were neither security cameras nor any other personnel. He extracted his staff. He walked over to a table, but met a large electronic screen instead. How the technology worked, he failed to comprehend. He decided to try his luck. He tapped a finger on the surface.

Instantly the room was enclosed in red light and the alarm sounded.

"Fingerprint unauthorized. Alert! Alert! Alert!" screamed the speakers around him and everywhere else in the structure. "Fingerprint recognised. Processing identity now – "

He exploded the blasted machine before it did any more damage. But it was still too late.

Eight men in black artillery suits and masks had surrounded him already.

"Lay down your weapons and put your hands in the air!" ordered one of the characters above the alarm. "Do not attempt to touch anything or we will not hesitate to shoot you down."

It was a damned but expected trap.

"Of course, monsieur." He dropped his cards around him, charged and exploding in all directions. As the soldiers were momentarily distracted, he jumped and climbed up to the third cabinet in a flash. He snatched up all the jars and bottles and threw them all out, charged. The chemicals sent vapour filling the room in a thick fog.

If he was going to go, he was not surrendering without a fight.

"Secure the perimeter! He isn't out of here yet and there's nowhere to hide. Check all cabinets!"

***

Rogue sprung awake. She had smashed her fist into something. Glancing around her in fright, she found Kurt knocked out on the floor.

"Remy." she mumbled. "I'm alright, Remy."

***

"I found him." announced Professor Xavier, slowly removing his connection with Cerebro. "But I'm afraid he has already entered the lions' den."

Just then, a redhead came stumbling into the spherical room. She could not take two steps without tumbling as she staggered toward them. Logan rushed to her side.

"Whoa there, Rogue." He helped her onto her feet.

"I'm fine." she retorted. "I'm just trying to walk."

"Walking is one thing; you're rolling all over the floor!" He turned to the professor. "What now, Prof?"

"We can only hope our pen and paper convinces them."

"You mean, in court?"

"Don't bother!" Rogue scoffed suddenly, her eyes sharp and gaze broken. "They won't listen to us. Never did! Never will."

"Rogue..." Xavier tried to soothe the young girl.

"You can't be serious, Charles."

"Legal action is the best way to keep the tide from turning again. You must understand, Rogue, that there _is_ a chance we can liberate him."

"What? Use your mind-bending on the jury?"

"Now that would be an unfair advantage. We must convince the public on the same ground."

"Geez, Professor! He _stole_! From the _government_ who hates us anyway! Who's gonna hear us out?!" Her eyes watered. "Why'd he go? Why didn't he just wait me out?" She covered her face with her hands as the tears flowed uncontrollably, like her powers. "Why must these damned powers be mine?" she softly murmured. "Why. Why. Why!"

Logan put a comforting arm around the weeping girl.

"Rogue," the professor laid a hand on her shoulder. "I promise we'll do our best to bring him back. Get some rest, now."

She shook her head in disbelief. "They won't care. They won't care." She left the room without stumbling.

"The girl has a point."

"Breaking him out of prison is too direct, Logan. You know that."

"It's a better shot than court."

The professor pressed his fingertips together. Then he looked up. "Then, how about we try both?"

***

Gambit found himself in a brightly lit, isolated cell, in a chair that clamped his wrists, ankles and torso to it. An automatic dripper was pierced into the back of his right hand, injecting the liquid that kept his powers from working. He sat there with a confident grin to his captors, who stood with tranquiliser shotguns on all four sides of the clear, fibreglass box. Surrounding them was darkness so that even if he were able to escape, he had no means of knowing where to run for the exit. They had watched him for two hours now without so much as blinking. He has tried and tested them for the amusement factor, receiving the most entertaining and predictable results.

He shook his right hand again and saw them turn their eyes toward the movement for the hundredth time. He decided to express a yawn; to see which of them would share his boredom. Apparently they were trained against humour, he decided, when none of them returned the look.

"Don't try distracting my men." A familiar voice sounded from the darkness. "They are trained to hate your kind."

"I'm aware of that." He watched as the government agent that had visited the mansion stepped into the light. He recognised the features well. "Hello, again, officer."

"We knew it was you from the start, Gambit." began the agent suavely, "It was only expected that you would come back for, well, this." He held up a bottle of the antidote.

"I'm ready to bet it's water you have in there." replied Gambit as smoothly, "I know you wouldn't risk me escaping with it. Would like to see me try. We're all toys for you, big boy. We run around inside the hamster ball, you catch us up and drop us whenever you like."

"And kill you all so suddenly?" he laughed. Approaching the block without fear, he sneered in Gambit's face, "Try spinning the ball, it's far more fun."

"Not to my kind, I won't."

"Indirectly, you will. You see, your alien minds fail to comprehend the true situation behind all these arrangements. You think you're all mere lab rats – that we exploit your unnatural powers for research and perhaps, to a level, 'sick games'." He shook his head. "These are far deeper waters.

"You'll drown in it sooner or later."

"Not before you do."

"Let's see."

"What keeps you awake at night, Monsieur Lebeau?" The question was practically a random remark.

"Coffee and some candy." He grinned at his own quick wit.

"Not the fear of losing a loved one?"

"I have _non_." He leaned back in the chair.

"What's your loyalty for this freak club, the X-men?"

"Nice rooms, free rent, good food..."

"You say candy keeps you awake." The officer pulled out a piece of folded paper. "What type of candy?"

"Gummy bears."

"Not eye-candy?" He held up _her_ photograph.

"You like porn." was his indignant reply.

"I'll just put her here for you to enjoy, Mister Lebeau. Remember, you're not going anywhere. They can't win legally, they won't break you out; as a matter of fact, they won't even be able to find your body."

"We'll see about that." His eyes gazed on the photograph.

"The only way you're leaving this cell is when we take you out to mutant hell."

"So you're a poet too."

"Goodbye, Monsieur." The officer turned his back and returned into the darkness. "And if it helps your godforsaken soul at all, good luck."

_Gamblers have no luck._ Gambit sat still. Jest and humour had dissolved from his eyes completely, replaced by a cold, dimmed stare. The conversation had left an impression on him no mere bully could produce.

"I need the bathroom." he plainly stated, but nobody answered.

***

"Sounds good." replied Rogue. "But can I control his powers is another thing."

"The Prof' will teach ya'." assured Logan. "He ain't the type to leave loose ends."

"I'm still not goin' to school, you hear?" she sharply made her point.

"I can't make you, eh? Well, just sleep things off. You'll see him tomorrow."

"I'm gonna kill him tomorrow."

"Of course."

Logan left the quiet girl to linger in Remy's room, buried in his sheets.


	7. Don't come for me, Rogue

**Her Queen of Hearts 7**

"Alright, freak," A new guard-face opened the cell and walked in. "You're gonna get your phone call."

"To anyone I want, right?" Gambit was still drugged with the power neutralising liquid and watched the soldier set up a wireless webcam and screen onto a stand. The fantastic four that had watched him for what seemed to be overnight remained as keen as mustard. That reminded him; he had no meal since they brought him in.

"Yeah," the new face answered. He adjusted the functions and turned to the mutant. "Who'd it be."

"Just call the Mansion. They're waiting for me." He was slumped to the most comfortable extent possible against the chair, his hands, feet and torso still clamped. It had been a most uncomfortable night. He blinked slowly – he was sleepy.

The screen was blank and the speakers buzzed as the call was sent. Almost immediately the answer came and Professor Xavier's face came on screen.

"How're you doin' Professor?" Remy smiled.

"How are _you_ doing, Gambit?" was the professor's concerned reply.

"Powerless and surrounded by guards who won't lend me a bathroom pass. Could you tell Rogue I know how she feels under the drug?"

"I'm right here, Remy." Her red head and her beautiful white streaks came within range of the screen.

"Cheré." He smiled to see her on her feet again. "D'you know the government's been takin' pictures of you?"

"We'll be seein' you soon, you stupid Cajun." she snapped to the point.

He saw her lower lip tremble. "I'm alright, Rogue. How're you feelin'?"

"Better. And without that stupid antidote nonsense!" She put a gloved hand by the side of the screen. "I love you, Remy. You come back soon, okay?"

"We'll see."

She had to part with the screen and the professor came into view. "We have made arrangements to physically meet with you earliest tomorrow afternoon. McCoy and I will personally see you sometime before your court case next Monday. Please don't keep anything from us at that session. I believe you are being watched at the moment?"

"They allow you to meet me?"

"It's permitted for lawyers to meet their clients before the trial." The professor gave a kindly smile. "We'll try our best."

"Good luck." replied Gambit.

"Hang in there."

The guard hung up the call on his behalf and dissembled the set-up.

"You're not getting out." the guard stated.

"Maybe."

"You should've just told that girl to forget you."

"She won't."

"Even for a mutant, that's cold." He shook his head.

"You have a girl too, eh?"

"Left her for the job."

"Now, who's cold?"

The guard left without a remark and the four remained with their rifles poised. Remy Lebeau closed his eyes. The photograph of her plastered on his cell flashed itself in his head as his head began to nod.

***

"No offence." Remy apologised. "Doesn't even convince me, Professor."

"Well," replied Professor McCoy, "We can always use reverse psychology."

"Alright." He fidgeted in his chair.

"You're still not convinced." remarked Xavier.

"They barely listened when you tried to defend us in that court case more than a year ago. I was an Acolyte, watchin' it on the news."

"Perhaps, but they did listen."

"Alright."

***

"ORDER IN COURT! Damn it." The judge cursed quietly to himself.

The scene was a riot.

People had crowded into the courtroom and filled every row meant for defendants, except for the first three rows on the right of the judge. The mutants from the mansion, who had previously promised Professor Xavier to remain gracious, sat together in two rows the people avoided, taking only half a row each so they could gossip together.

People had begun to raise their voices in fierce protest and jeering since Gambit had entered, handcuffed. A dripper on rollers followed closely behind him, keeping his powers at bay. His eyes encircled with sleeplessness and body weakened by the side effects of the drug, he looked pathetic and completely defenceless. But his eyes shone with a resolution that sparked the reporters and jury into crazed suspicion.

"Freaks!"

"Get the shit out of here!"

"Damn you!"

"Go fuck your mothers!"

The Xavier kids sat in forced silence. Logan snarled and Rogue put a hand on his tensed shoulders, although she herself felt like bringing the house down on their ignorant heads. People waved their arms in the air and hollered at the top of their lungs. The shouts and curses subsided at last when the judge hammered his undeniable authority through the courthouse. But as the trial continued, as Professor Xavier fairly pointed out his facts and the accuser pointed his vicious fingers, the scene became violent enough to have triggered World War Three – the war where it was humans versus mutants.

As predicted by all persons in the court, mutants and ordinary humans, Gambit lost the consolidate case and was sentenced for theft, physical assault, murder, vandalism and violation of human rights. Gambit kept his head up, facing his adversaries without blinking and turning to his fellows with a shrug of his shoulders. The judge ordered for silence as he was led out of the courtroom.

From the silence, a threatening hiss settled in his ear. "Might as well lock him up forever for bein' a mutant."

He spun on his heel to grin at the source. "They hope to, cheré. _Je'taime_!" They led him away at last.

***

"You can't be serious about the box, monsieur." Gambit groaned in his transparent cell. "A lifetime? Here?"

"You'll miss it soon enough, boy." replied the agent.

"Where am I goin'?"

"Where it all begins for mankind..."

"And it all ends for mutants, eh?"

***

"He won't be havin' much time left, Charles." reported Wolverine. "They'll be tranferrin' him in a few days. I know them."

"Then you must see him tomorrow, Rogue." Xavier instructed calmly. "He will have at least two guards with him, so the statistics say there's a chance one of them would know where he's going. If there are guards around you as well, the better the chances. Try to keep the conversation going without betraying yourself."

The gothic mutant nodded her red head. "No problem on the talking, Professor. But I need help on the powers."

"Ah, yes. I'm aware of that. Why not we start your lessons now?"

As she tapped the Professor's forehead lightly, the awfully familiar sensation of absorption throbbed into her skull. Stumbling backwards, Logan balanced her onto her feet as she placed a hand on her temple. She shook the dizziness away and heard the professor groan. He looked up, awake and alive, and asked her to focus on him. She looked into his eyes. Almost immediately she heard his replying thought echo in her head.

_Argh! Rogue, relax. Relax. I can sense your presence clearly._

_Sorry, Professor. How do I know I am actually sending anything?_

_You focus on the person you are looking for. I wanted to start you off by looking into the person's eyes – it is easier. But you are not to transmit thoughts besides, you need to practice mindreading._

_Alright. Let us start before it wears off._

_Look into my eyes. I am going to pull my presence from your mind and you attempt to put yourself within mine._

_How?_

_Imagine you are stepping into a house, or entering a room of some sort. As long as you can envision yourself going into a place, psychic powers will take you there._

_Imagination? Seriously?_

_It is almost like believing you can bend reality to your own will._

_You probably can._

_Many psychics think so, that is why many do not last very long._

Rogue noticed his eyes had become hazy, as if he were suppressing a very strong emotion from her.

_Can I, Professor?_

_Go ahead._

She felt a burden lift from her mind as the professor left her head. Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to imagine herself stepping into his head. In her mind, she was coming closer and closer until the world around her vaporised. She appeared in a black space. It was terrifyingly black and she began to panic in the sudden bare lonliness.

_Well done, Rogue!_

_Where are you?!_

_Do not fear. I have only cleared my mind so you may not be troubled by unnecessary visions. Any trouble finding your way? Do you know, you are actually very fast for a first-timer?_

_Er, thanks. No, not much trouble. But it is kind of awkward here._

_Yes, a common first-timer syndrome. Now, are you ready to actually absorb memories?_

_Let us try this out._

_Do not recoil or act in defence to any of these images, lest it critically damages both our minds. It will seem very real and make you think what you see is truly happening, but take control of the power, not let it control you. I will flash a few sequences._

The most uncomfortable feeling grabbed at her mind and she wanted to throw it out. Although the memories he had brought forth were from ten minutes ago, she found the images force feeding themselves into her brain space. She saw herself, a desk, the office, Logan standing with his arms folded, a bird chirping in the tree next to the window and a black fountain pen. She let a pained groan escape her lips. The images stopped and a soothing black emptiness enveloped her presence once again.

_Are you alright, Rogue?_

_Yeah. I am good. Whoa. Now I know why Jean feels so tired so easily._

_It takes a lifetime of practice._

_I do not got a lifetime if I am gonna be saving Remy._

_Then let us practice this again._

Logan had seated himself in a chair and watched over the two psychics in their silent conversation. This girl loves that Cajun with her heart and soul. He had better be loyal to her, or there will be hell to pay – Logan's hell. Or maybe, just maybe, there is a side he himself has not seen of Gambit, former enemy and fluent thief, but she has. Maybe it was when he kidnapped her? Took her to Louisiana and on that Blood Moon bayou excursion? What did he say? What did they do? He ought to ask, but he knew Rogue to keep these moments to herself. A lone wolf she is, just like him. He wished he could do more for her.

He believed himself to understand her better than anyone, until this swamp boy swooped in out of nowhere. He admitted to himself he was jealous of the man, not in the weepy romantic way, but the fact that another person is able to comfort and console a confused soul like his. They had a connection, some sort of close relationship, which he found beautifully special and worthwhile. He did not want to lose it, lose her. It was almost as if he were afraid of the possibility of losing her, like a loving father hearing the news of his daughter's decision for her first boyfriend.

_I should have made him sign a contract with his blood or something._

A voice descended into his mind. _I heard that, Logan._

_Glad you can mind read now, Rogue. So when is this party starting?_

***

Remy Lebeau was transferred to another temporary holding, this time with a pleasant but hard bed and a toilet set! There was no mirror however, but he made do with the metallic toilet bowl, although it was an awkward and disgusting thought to look into a toilet bowl every morning and night. He slept well at least, but his mind had begun to reel and his body twitched for minutes on end from the after-effects of the drug. They now pumped in the liquid drug from an air moisturiser that sprayed every nine minutes – he had the free time to count second by second to come to that conclusion.

They fed him like a dog. A tray would slide in from a latched slit along the floor at breakfast time, lunchtime and dinnertime. When was that? It was up to them. The fantastic four was loyal and dedicated to watching him, although they had shifts and switched at irregular intervals with another boy band. There were the first annoyed instances when he had to piss and eight eyeballs were focussed on his every move. Then he needed a shit and asked for a book, they still did not smile. He was thoroughly convinced they were brainwashed soldiers doing their job.

Sleeping was far more comfortable and he could not care less about those creatures watching him. But the headaches started and he began to toss and turn, the pain intensifying with every headache. He would often throw the pillow over his head and groan loudly when things became too bright; the prison wardens refused to switch off the lights for any reason.

He could not tell how many days have passed. One blessed moment in time, he was having a bland meal of potatoes and strange chunks of someone's meat when a six-man troop came by with their reflective helmet visors concealing their identity. He lowered his Spork and paid attention like a good prisoner, not wanting to be beaten the shit out of.

"You're coming with us." A womanly voice came from the foremost soldier. "Someone's here to see you. A Rogue, from the Xavier Mansion for the Gifted, Bayville."

"You're a woman!"

"Put your hands out behind you through the hatch." There was no humour in the lady either.

They handcuffed him and blindfolded him then led him though the dim corridors. He walked blindly with the dripper by his side, stopping for what he guessed were security checks before he sensed himself in a very different place. He could smell a less sanitised air and an uncomfortable, piercing silence. They sat him down and removed the handcuffs to lock his wrists to a surface. The shackles had a short chain that allowed him to fidget comfortably, but not enough to reach each other.

They removed his blindfold. Blinking through the sudden flash of light, he began to recognise the familiar features of his girl who sat on the other side of the glass with a telephone end by her ear. Two guards stood at her sides.

"Hey cheré." he smiled.

"Remy, they treatin' you, okay?" Her voice spoke though a pair of speakers above him, behind where the fantastic four stood. A voice receiver protruded out from the surface at his lips.

"Well, I've got a nice bed, nice open-faced bathroom, weird food... I'll live."

"I wanna love you, Remy, really, it's gettin' crazy without you."

"How crazy?"

"I wanna hear you talk."

"I wanna hear _you_ talk. I miss you. I wanna hold you again, touch you, feel you, have you with me, and kiss you even with a cloth between us."

"You have no idea about me. School's been harder with everybody knowing what's up, who's been doing what and the whole court case is being recited everywhere. I skipped school today anyway 'cause the professor let me. Logan still thinks you're an idiot but he's okay with you now. I donno, I overheard him talking and he thinks he should've made you sign a contract about dating me, signed with your blood or something."

"Oh yeah, he's okay with me, eh?" he smiled sadly. "Cheré, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise. You tried to help me."

"I could've gotten you somethin' else, we wouldn't be like this."

"I enjoyed it, you enjoyed it, don't say that! What else would you've gotten me anyway?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "A new bed to move into my room?"

"And what?"

"Grope all night long without anybody watchin'."

"I think our kisses were better."

"Alright, a vacation to nowhere, just the two of us."

"And grope all night and day long?"

"In a private room, a deserted beach, lying side by side, skinny dipping."

She rested her head on her fist. "That's all you think about me, huh?"

"Only 'cause you're so special to me. You're beautiful, inside, outside. So untouchable, so temptin', so wonderful. So brave, so believin'." He paused. "Cheré... I'll find us a way. Don't you go runnin' tryin' to find a way to bust me out. They'll kill you if you're not careful. Don't forget me, don't come after me. I'll watch over myself and over you. I'll always be watchin' over you. I'm not givin' up on us or on the X-men yet. The world is nonsense. I'll be back for you. Someday. You'll find me waiting."

She had watched him, her eyes dazed and faraway. Did she listen?

"Cheré? Rogue."

"Yea-Yeah?"

"Did'ou hear me?"

"Uh-uh huh."

"Don't you come for me. Understand?"

"I'll be waitin', Remy."

She blinked suddenly. She leaned onto the glass and fogged it, tracing a sweet heart toward him and pasting a kiss inside it. He grinned. He pushed himself toward the fading doodle and fogged it from the opposite side. He pasted the shape of his own lips, as if receiving her kiss.

"Come closer." he whispered into the receiver, wiping the glass.

She did. He lunged toward her and their lips met on the same area of glass. Their own warmth was reflected back to them, thrilling their starved senses with the heat. She laid her hands on the glass where his chest would have been, pressing hard. She moved her hands up and down excitedly. Her legs clambered onto the surface to bring herself closer to him. She held the telephone to her ear and moaned into the receiving end, hearing a responding groan from him. It was such a strange sight that she heard the guards murmuring to each other in the background. They could go through the motion of a hot kiss without actual contact.

She caught a peculiar sniffling sound coming from him. Opening her eyes, she would have burst out laughing if his manner was not so passionate. She joined him in tonguing the glass and enjoying every moment. If he were right beside her, she would have crashed into his mouth and licked every tooth he had, running the wet organ into the deep spaces behind. She clawed the glass in delight and finally banged her fist on it.

He pulled away gradually, his eyes full of vigour and adoration. She held the telephone close and her palm on the glass. He laid his hand on hers.

"They say I need'a go. Hate it. _Je'taime_, Remy."

"_Je'taime toujours _[I love you forever], Rogue."

She left a longing hand imprint before pulling herself away.

***

He found himself in his cell, lying on his back and thinking about the kiss, licking his lips in the memory, when the agent popped in.

"Must've been some kiss."

"Hot."

"You're being transferred tomorrow."

"The faster, the better."

"Suit yourself."

As he left, Remy rolled over. _Don't come for me, Rogue. Please._

***

Rogue was sitting down with the Professor and Logan, the trio discussing the execution of their next move. She had scanned all the guards' minds for information while he had gone on his monologue. Sure she missed hearing his beautiful voice riveting her emotions, but this plan needs to work out.

"Okay," she began, "The guards on Remy's side knew everything 'cause they're the ones gonna move him out tomorrow. The agent that came over here is one of them and has been making all the arrangements, but who runs the place, they don't know. Anyway, that's not important – "

"All facts are important, even if they are trivial details." replied Xavier. "Continue."

"Right, so they're taking him to a dumpsite in Virginia. Underground is their second HQ, the main one is 243 miles south-southwest from the nearest beach, underwater. They're told it's either one, but since Remy trashed the dumpsite, I think it's gonna be the real deal. They're gonna bring him straight to the Anti-Mutant Experiment Containment cells, on the west wing, not the regular Mutant Cells, to test him straightaway. But nobody knows which cell number."

"What's the security like?" Logan queried out of experience.

"Stiff. There's no way in except for three sets of hatches: four small openings for divers, two main for underwater vehicles and one large for resources. Each set's at the East, West and Centre wings of the place. They're monitored 24 hours by sensors and soldiers behind a camera. Inside there's sensors, cameras and guards walking about, plus a three-part scanning system to enter rooms."

"Not bad."

"Anything else you can tell us, Rogue?"

"They're gonna keep him even after experimenting, like for a few months, to see what side effects come up."

"When would they start?"

"A few days after he comes in, 'cause they need to run some tests on his body. To research his physicality, something like that. His allergies, stamina, medical history and stuff."

"Then two days from today, you and Logan will try to recover him. If you succeed, remember you must not bring him to Bayville or any other area in New Jersey, Mississippi, Louisiana and the surrounding states. You must exile him for his safety, and yours."

Rogue glanced aside.

"Rogue, this will be hard, but you must forget him for a few months, at least. If the government finds you guilty – "

"Then he'll come to save me."

"It's gonna be a vicious cycle, kid." Logan was stern. "It's not worth it. Just listen to the Prof."

"Alright." she stated sullenly. "Can we just dump him in China? Maybe Singapore. Just somewhere on the other side of the globe so I'll just give up hope, you know!"

"Rogue, enough." growled Logan.

Rogue bit her lip and stared away from her makeshift father.

"Look, in time, you'll feel differently about this." said Logan, knowing her sombre moods. "After breaking him out, you two **will **see each other. It'll seem like a few days, I promise you. Take it from me."

"Will. I. Ever. See. Him. Again?" She looked into his eye.

"Yes. You will." He replied without blinking, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Rogue put her hand on his as thanks.

The professor put his fingertips together.


	8. Destruction Death Defeat Loss

**Her Queen of Hearts 8**

The professor had organised that Rogue, Logan and Kurt would be dropped directly above the coordinated location of the HQ, under Storm's weather decoy. In their special suits, they will motor their way to the seabed and be teleported in. Upon return, they would have a spare suit for Gambit and would signal Scott in the X-Jet to pick them up as Storm worsens the weather so they can escape undetected and unsuspected. What the trio does during the actual saving moment was left at get in quick and get out fast. No blood, no death, no big hurt done.

As four members of the rescue team loaded up, Storm had gone ahead to bring some rain over the sea. They flew over churning waters in general silence, influenced by the air of formality of being on a mission into enemy territory. They were all earnest to have it over. They knew these government military organisations. There could be a flaw. There might be a catch. There were chances of not coming back.

As the trio took an opportunity to change into their special diving gear, Kurt cleared his throat. "Rogue."

"Yeah." She strapped on her goggles.

"What if – if we're too late?" He quickly added, "Touch wood."

"Yeah, touch wood." she stated blandly, her eyes fixed onto the blurry, grey sea below.

They entered a huge cloud. Lightning flashed across the side. Large rain droplets started to assail the metal body of the X-Jet as typhoon winds made it to jerk and wobble. Here and there, patches of thick cloud lit up and dimmed one by one, followed by roars of booming thunder, which frequented more as they journeyed deeper into the storm.

Logan grumbled. "When we said decoy, we meant it to help us."

"There she is." Scott pointed out a white-haired African lady floating in an empty sphere surrounded by cloud.

Apparently she had noticed the huge black plane as well when she stretched out an arm and cleared a column of cloud beneath herself for the three divers to plunge safely. She nodded when the passage was ready. The diving trio were already assembled at the automatic side door of the jet, their diving helmets on and holding onto each other's arms, especially Kurt's. Logan had a fairly large satchel stuffed with a spare suit for Gambit.

"Opening doors, now!" announced Scott, hitting the button.

The hurricane winds that Storm controlled to keep the clouds at bay slammed into the cabin with a force that knocked Logan over. They locked arms and steadied each other against the gale.

"Let's go, Elf!"

In an instant, they found themselves below the X-Jet. The next, they were beneath Storm. They descended the open column at irregular poofing intervals as Kurt began to sweat under the effort of using his teleportation powers so intensely. His team mates heard his heavy breathing through the radio – a speaker beneath the helmet's underwater breathing gadget that was located in front of the user's mouth – and Rogue squeezed his arm in support.

"C'mon, Elf, you're doin' a great job!" Logan kept his eyes on the digital free fall meter strapped to his wrist. "20 000 feet...15 000 feet...10 000 feet! C'mon, Kurt! 5000..."

"Give me a break!" Kurt yelled back in evident weariness. "Can we just dive at 500 feet?"

"The force'll kill you both! No!" But Logan knew the boy needed a break; he still had the depth of the ocean to tackle. "But we can free fall now until 100 feet, then you teleport us into deep water. Got that?"

"Yeah!"

They were out of the clouds and under the rain. Storm had lightning bolts kept away from that region between sky and sea beautifully, so they were only hit by rough raindrops. The sea below was whipped up in a frenzy, tossing waves five storeys high while fierce winds kept smashing into their helmet-protected faces.

"2000 feet...1000 feet..." Logan broadcasted the readings. "500! 400! 300! Elf, you're up! 100 feet!"

With a grunt of effort, the fuzzy one pulled them 300 feet into the sea, where the water was controlled by currents and not death-dealing waves. The team took a moment to activate the propellers in their suits' part-and-parcel compact backpack, which contained a fair number of precautionary gizmos. An automatic grid map system, that made use of ultrasound, appeared on a screen strapped to their right wrist at the same time. Rogue traced the map with her finger – the HQ was 4300 feet below them.

"Kurt." Rogue held her brother's arm. "You okay?"

"Yeah, but let's swim for awhile." He took a deep breath. "I never knew I could get tired using my powers."

"Must be the altitude." answered Wolverine. "Sudden pressure change and your focus...Let's get moving."

They propelled their way downwards, hand in hand for safety's sake. Deep sea divers have been known to forget their sense of direction and swim in circles, such as swimming deeper instead of upwards for air. They end up drowning. The X-Men had solved the oxygen problem with a breathing gadget that worked like the gills of a fish – transforming air in the water into a breathable gaseous form for users. The team kept their course with the grid map and watching their air bubbles float upwards, behind them.

"Whew!" Nightcrawler's sudden sigh turned his team mates' heads. "Okay, let's move!"

Within blinking moments, they had reached the seabed and were hiding behind natural clusters of large rock. The HQ had looked like Mickey Mouse's head from atop and now, three huge dark hemispheres from the side angle they were on. Anyone who intended to find this place had to use ultrasound in the pitch dark. Upon docking, however, one would need the people inside to open the doors and reveal the lighted opening; otherwise you would find yourself backing into the walls instead. It was a grace that the goggles they wore had night vision.

Rogue checked her compass. They were looking on the west wing. The Anti-Mutant Experiment Containment cells were in the hemispheres. Suddenly, flashes of images rushed through her mind like lightning. In an instant, the entire HQ was at her fingertips.

"Ready?" asked Nightcrawler.

"Keep going, elf."

"Wait!" Rogue exclaimed.

"What's wrong?" Wolverine questioned.

"Kurt," Rogue pointed at the West Wing hemisphere. "Can you see the tiles on the things?"

"Yeah."

"Each three is one storey. There're five storeys above here. The AMEC cells are on the third so teleport us to the seventh tile from the bottom." she recited without hesitation.

"What's an AMEC?" Kurt was lost in her quick speech.

"Anti-Mutant Experiment Containment cells." she replied with a hint of impatience. "Can you?"

"Ok, sure. How deep in?"

"Six feet of concrete. Try the middle of the place."

"Oh. Alright." He tightened his grip on his mates' arms. "Hold on!"

Poof! They were gone.

Puff! They were inside.

They had jumped straight into the fire, missing the frying pan altogether. They were in the heavily guarded nucleus computer room.

***

Remy Lebeau stared down at himself. He had been stripped down by an officer _(unnecessary outburst: MUST BE GAY!)_ and forced to wear a body hugging 'bunny suit' that covered his neck down to his toes. He had seen the other mutants wearing white uniformed shirts and pants, with those magnetic bracelets on their wrists and ankles. The officer who brought him in had demonstrated the use of the latter for him, on him. With the push of a button, the bracelets had attracted one another and slammed his corresponding limbs together, immobilising him. This was one of their thousand precautions against mutant prison breaks, the officer explained sweetly.

Again, his cell was pumped every nine minutes with the vapour of the power-hindering drug. Again, it was bare save for a bed and a toilet. Again, he was watched without being given an inch of privacy. He flipped away his auburn hair that spilled to his shoulders. He had been living with the floppy hair since his capture – in jail, in court, in jail again and here. Wishing he had a band of a sort to tie it up, he tucked the length behind his exposed ears.

He walked about the room. It had five white cushioned square walls and a soundproof, transparent fibreglass one, where he spent time watching it like a silent television screen. Guards passed to and fro with rifles in hand, grenades around their waists and shotguns at their sides, dressed in the same manner to the point of cloning. He could not tell the difference between any of them but reckoned there were at least fifteen marching about. They had pouches of stuff strapped around their waists, thighs and forearms. As a matter of fact, they had forearms the size of his thigh. They were not soldiers, they were overgrown gorillas. Damn. If he wanted to escape, he would need to grow bones of steel. Or perhaps not; these guys look like they can twist steel bars into sailor knots.

He was beginning to miss the fantastic four and that other boy band.

The hiss of the released vapour resounded in the silence.

He yawned in lethargy. With newfound energy, he suddenly sprung to his feet. He had been slacking for the past two weeks without exercise. He stretched his limbs. He bent his back backwards slowly, controlling his movements with a steady pace as his palms touched the ground and he lifted his feet off the ground gingerly like an acrobat. He stood on his hands and lowered his feet once more. He made his legs do a perfect split and laid his head on his knee, raising his upper body for an intake of breath then lowered himself again. Flexing his toes, he lay on his back and proceeded to do a hundred crutches.

A spray of the drugged vapour polluted his air again.

He then kicked himself up like a martial artist and went down again on his palms, pushing himself up and down on the soft floor. He stopped and glanced at the bed. He went over, sat down and propped his feet upon it. Turning over, he held himself up on his palms and did his push-ups, angled for maximum workout. He wiped a trickle of sweat from his brow. His breathing was steady and his arms did not burn. He could not get a proper exercise in this cage.

He walked over to the glass. Pressing his forehead against the clear surface, he sighed in boredom.

One of the gorillas walked before his cell. He glanced at Gambit then walked on.

Remy waited for the next oversized monkey to pass him. None came. He waited a little longer.

A man in a doctor's overcoat came by with a touch screen note pad and two gorillas. He paused outside Remy's cell to key in some data then pulled out a tiny remote and pressed one of the buttons.

It must be time for his check-up.

Remy sat down as soon as the doctor had pressed the button so he would not drop on the floor like a fish again. His wrists were forcefully slammed together but his ankles remained free. The guards entered and pulled him out roughly. He did not struggle nor smile, but faced the monster in the coat serenely. They took him to the automatic door on the right, passing other mutants who stared down at him in pity. He gave them a friendly nod before being shoved into another transparent container.

The doors closed, encasing him in complete darkness. Then the case began to move sideways in the dark, then upwards. The whirring of gears and clanging of ascending mechanically filled his ears. Suddenly there was a violent jerk in the system. The entire process came to a stop. He glanced about with furrowed brows. He put his hands on the sides and pushed. He knocked the walls politely. Receiving no reply, he kicked the walls. The darkness was beginning to get to him as he hammered about.

"Hey! Hello! _Mon_ stuck!"

He took a breath. His mind took over. He tapped his fingers on one of the surfaces in thought.

Cracks of gunshots echoed in the darkness. Instinctively he crouched down, knocking his face into one of the walls. He rubbed his face.

What the hell just happened?

***

They had knocked out the entire squad of sixteen gorillas before the alert was sounded. The nucleus computer was wrecked with its insides out. All systems were failing and according to the terribly cracked screen, the place would be completely shut down in 11.76 minutes. Then the whole battlefield was encased in red light.

"Where to, Rogue?" Wolverine barked above the booming siren.

Images flashed through her mind.

"This way!" She ran toward the eastern door.

They dashed corners and various rooms. They did not have the time to pause and read the signs or look in through the narrow slit at eye level. But if only they had taken a moment to observe the facinations within the test chambers that were so well-concealed from the surface world. Finally they met a welcoming committee of thirty gun points. Behind them was a circular automatic door labelled 'Anti-Mutant Experiment Containment cells'.

The building groaned and rumbled. The soldiers were distracted for a moment.

Without a word, Kurt grabbed his teammates and teleported in. They ran into a room lined with brightly lit cells, each filled with a mutant bloodied at the forehead. Their eyes wide open and mouth agape, it did not take an ex-soldier like Wolverine to know they were shot in the head. The five soldiers directly responsible for the deaths lowered their rifles and faced the scientist who stood behind them with the electronic notepad tucked under his arm.

They spotted the three intruders.

Wolverine ran his claws through the security box at the side of the door so nobody can get in or out.

Outside, there was violent banging on the door.

The soldiers inside wasted no time in firing at the trio.

Kurt teleported beside a couple of them and stole their guns. Wolverine ran at them headfirst, unafraid of their bullets. Rogue jumped aside.

The building shook, sending many bits of ceiling dropping to the floor.

Wolverine sliced their guns and across their uniforms. Kurt came for his sister and teleported her beside the unarmed fighters. She and Wolverine sent the boys off to dreamland.

Turning to the scientist, who had fled to the left of the room and was trying desperately to quickly open the automatic door, Rogue ran at him and stuck her naked hand onto his face before he could escape.

Images ran through her mind. With a cry, Rogue scanned the cells. She came across the one empty one, proving that the one they had come for had been sent for experimenting. She stood up and ran to the opposite side of the huge room.

The ceiling cracked and broke under the pressure of two storeys and the deep sea. The entire room was coming down.

Kurt had thought faster than gravity. He teleported Wolverine and himself to Rogue then all of them out of the HQ.

"REMY!" The girl screamed at the top of her lungs.

They were outside, watching Mickey Mouse crumble into itself. The creaking of the steel framework and concrete body breaking resonated through the ocean. Several escape pods and submarines, filled with staff and soldiers, which made it in time dashed away from the site at full speeds, ignoring the three floating bodies.

Rogue clawed at her helmet, wishing she could phase through the fibreglass and rip her hair from its roots. She did not care about the hundreds of government bastards who drowned. She had no pity for the families of the soldiers who would suffer. She could not think of the disaster they had wrecked upon the HQ or any lawsuits that may come to bite their asses someday. **He** was lost in that mess forever.

Her teammates heard her sobs. Wolverine had to turn away to focus on the next task at hand – signalling Scott to pick them up. Kurt took her arm gently and they teleported upwards.

Scott was waiting above the water by the time they surfaced and the weather had worsened so much so the X-Jet had to hover thirty feet from the water surface. They were teleported inside anyhow and started for the Mansion.

Neither Scott nor Storm wanted or needed to ask, having seen that the trio had returned empty-handed and the girlfriend had locked herself in the bathroom.

***

She closed the lid of the toilet bowl and sat on it, arms clasped around her legs, tucking them to her chest. The dozens of pouches and gizmos lay unstrapped from the suit and lay scattered around her. She snapped the goggles from her head and threw them at the door across her. Her eyes stared longingly ahead, the tears streaming unrestrained. Her eyebrows were twisted downwards in distress. Her fingers plucked at the skin-tight material that was wrapped around her. She brought her hands before her sight, stripped the gloves away and glared at them. Clenching and unclenching her fists, she cursed their existence in harsh whispers.

She jumped up suddenly. Stepping over the expensive gadgets, she held herself up to the mirror. She stared into her own face, mindlessly turning on the tap and plugging the sink, feeling the warm steam soothe her skin. She threw the water over her face and rubbed violently. Her wet head hung over the sink. Fresh teardrops met with warm water as they dripped down together. Soft, indistinguishable murmurs escaped her lips.

She looked at her reflection. Her head shook from side to side.

How can she move on? He had been her escapade from the nightmares, the torture of self-distancing, the hiding; he overtook the fear of herself. He was her tower of strength when insecurity came charging and the arm that she held onto for quietness. He had found her when she was lost in thought. He pulled her out of the chasm of fantasy and fiction, showing her the thrilling reality of sweet, heartfelt romance.

Can she move on?

The clanging of the steel was on replay in her ears. Solid blocks of concrete disintegrating under the pressure of the deep sea screened before her vision.

Destruction. A situation one can only watch unfold.

Death. A happening one may predict, but can never accept.

Defeat. A state one finds fulfilled emptiness.

Loss. The truth of letting go.

* * *

**Author's notes: I don't usually write this, but I feel like it now!**

**A few pointers for those who don't follow.  
1. I chose the team made of Scott, Storm, Logan and Kurt because they are the most experienced and capable mutants in the Xavier school. At the same time, it is interesting to have the team that was chasing Remy's ass back in Cajun Spice, trying to save it now.  
2. It was not that Rogue did not know where the AMEC cells were, it was that Kurt didn't. He made a mistake. Poor Kurt.  
3. The mutants were shot because the humans knew that the place was gonna go. They didn't want any of their mutant victims to survive.  
4. Poor Rogue. Goodbye Remy.**

**I am upset that Gambit dies too. No more awesome Cajun sexiness. No hot kisses. Rogue is still a virgin. Yeap, stupid shit happens. Please don't hate my story, blame my cruel imagination. HAHAHAHAA! I'M HAVING SHERLOCK HOLMES OVER FOR CHRISTMAS!!!**

**A billion smileys and choking hugs for reviewers! Favourited, story alert people, I LOVE YOU DUDES TOO!!! Thank you all for your wonderful support! I may write for my itchy fingers, but I love my readers.**


	9. Moving On

**Her Queen of Hearts 9**

"Get out of there, Rogue!" Logan hollered. "Girl, you're gonna end up lookin' like me."

That was a downright exaggeration, saying she was becoming buff, but at the rate she kept working out, he was deeply concerned.

And he had all the right to. He knew it before anyone else noticed. He, unlike the others, had not dismissed the issue as a 'would be progressive to the point of exhaustion'. She would be found in the gym every morning or afternoon. She would take on the equipment with a wildfire alight in her eyes and a hard, clenched fist. Her lips stiff and tightened, she would punish her body. He had not seen her ever leave the gym without being drenched in sweat, cheeks reddened with the rush of blood and her lungs heaving for breath.

Recently, she had been up late at night when everyone else was snoring away and her eyelids were sleepless. He had heard her footsteps tiptoeing past his room several times but chose to sleep on those nights. Only he knew of these expeditions and had kept the information to himself.

However, he had caught her two weeks ago trying the stupidest stunt he had ever seen. She had snuck off on one of those all-night thrashings of hers. He had sprung awake at that very moment; his gut telling him something big was amiss. He pulled on some trousers and walked a couple of corridors. Spotting her from behind, fully dressed in her X-men uniform and heading toward the Danger Room, he had half a mind to jump her.

Instead he followed her from a distance, naturally keeping the eerie silence of night. He waited for her to slip into the Danger Control Room before pasting himself against the wall outside, pressing his ear against the surface. His acute hearing caught her fingers rhythmically tapping the controls, keying in some code.

"Level Five tonight. Shouldn't be that bad." were her only lines.

_What the hell_ does she think she's doing?

He heard the hiss of the machinery starting. That was _his_ training level for goodness sake! Charles had specially designed it to kill and destroy because that was _his_ lifestyle. He had fought in all them world wars and whatever war he found good to fight. She was now...What? Eighteen and nine months?

No. He would not interfere. His features were resolute as he entered the empty room. If this stubborn girl wants to kill herself, I won't let her, but I won't be stopping this either. This self-punishment has to stop.

He just watched her from above, bulky arms crossed.

The heat-seeking metallic tentacles chased her, their thin ends whipping past her auburn hair, attempting to snag her ankle or wrists. The sharp blades of the enormous propeller in the centre of the room barely missing her, she did a fast back flip to the opposite side. She shrank her body into a small ball so that the blades swooped centimetres above her head. The tentacles dashed and wrapped around the base of the propeller where she was.

But she had anticipated that. She leaped through the thin gap between the tentacles, again having a close shave from the blades, and rolled away in time to watch them whip through the propeller, completely destroying it.

Three paintball hover-machines ambushed her against the wall. She yelled as the paint splattered around her, a couple of shots staining her back. She made a quick grab for a few pieces of steel blade. She aimed and threw them like shurikens. Only one hover-machine was brought down.

The tentacles came for her from behind. She saw them at the last moment from the corner of her eye and jumped. One tentacle wrapped around her ankle.

And there it goes, thought Wolverine. He reached for the 'Pause Stimulation' button but held his finger over it.

She was pulled down to the ground, her face slammed onto the cold metal floor. The other three tentacles caught her wrists and other ankle. The two hover-machines blasted her with all their paint ammo.

She gritted her teeth and put up a fierce struggle. The tentacles held her up so the paintballs shot her in front. Then they tossed her across the room, her head crashing into the wall.

She feebly placed her palms on the floor, trying to raise her body and finish the fight. Her brain sloshed inside her head, her vision warping the battle scene. She looked up, every fibre of her muscles aching and her lungs burning for air.

"Had enough?" The speaker above spoke suddenly.

She suddenly noticed none of the machines were moving.

At first she panicked. She would rather die fighting those things than facing corrective duty – especially corrective duty under the person whom the voice belonged to! She tried pushing herself up but it was no good, her legs were too wobbly to support her.

She heard the hiss of the door opening and heavy footsteps growing louder. She tried again. A pair of strong hands hauled her up and before she could protest, she was swung over Logan's shoulder like a piece of meat.

***

"What was _that_ supposed to mean, Rogue?" he questioned with grim eyes. "Rogue, look at me."

She had turned away with a pursed lip, refusing to return his gaze. "You know bloody well what."

"Don't use that language on me, young lady." He sternly made his point. Then he added sympathetically "Yeah, I do."

The silence spoke volumes between them while she wrapped her arms around herself, running her hands over her own forearms as if some invisible chilling breeze was blowing through the kitchen they were in. Her eyes were not watery like the previous times they talked – there were no more tears left to shed by then. He sat on the high stool opposite hers, a glass of whiskey and can of soda on the kitchen top. She suddenly jerked her hand toward her soda and gulped down. She was about to slam the can onto the table, but slowly lowered it instead. She sighed.

"Nothing works, Logan." she murmured at last, shaking her head. "I've tried, you know. I've tried..."

"I know you have. You've been strong."

"I can't go on no more."

"Rogue..."

"What am I supposed to do? I've tried _everything_! Nothing! Works!"

He declined to reply her. Instead, he pushed his whiskey toward her. She stared at the glass before swinging the lot.

"Thanks." She wiped some stray liquid from her lips.

He acknowledged her skill with hard liquor. "Let it out, Rogue."

"You've seen everything already. I'd bet you knew I was sneaking out too, didn't ya?"

"Yeah, I did. And now I know you've been the one draining my drinks too." he replied quietly.

"Hey, eighteen onwards is legal."

"You know better."

"I don't care what I know."

"That's tough denial talk." He looked on her with softer eyes. "How long you gonna keep it up?"

"Until I figure what to do with this screwed shit called life."

"It don't be screwed shit if you know where it's going. Tell it."

She looked into the empty glass, twirling it from side to side with her fingertips. Logan walked to a cupboard at the lower side. He pulled out the whiskey bottle and refilled it, stationing the bottle at his side of the table. She took a swig, tapping her lips, enjoying the taste of alcoholic relief.

She swayed her head to the side, took a deep breath then turned back to face him.

"So I started out roaming about the Mansion, moody I guess, and not going to school. Then after awhile I tried lessons again, but the shit load of bull coming from everyone about the court stuff and the 'crimes against the government' pissed me off. I guess I shouldn't have done that, but I did anyway so the boy got it in the nuts."

"Yeah. The mom wanted to sue you and the kid had icepacks on his pants."

"Yeah. For a few days, Kurt told me." She let a small smile crawl onto her features. "Then the Professor got me homeschooled by Jean. She's nice, you know, but, you know...She expects too much. I don't do algebra and trigo and – what's the big deal about organic chem for Christ's sake? Crap like that. Physics too, can just bang a wall or something. I liked social studies and history, but she didn't so Scott took over those things."

She took another sip of whiskey.

"Yeah, he was alright with the facts and methods, but he couldn't teach for nuts. So Kitty ended up with me every afternoon. She copied all the notes from class for me and filled me in 'bout the stuff in school. Yeah, that's...that's about it for school life.

"Then you forced me to get out of the Mansion twice a week." She pointed her index at her listener. "So I did. I watch a movie with the rest, bike through the highway, walk about the mall..."

A certain memory was lead into her head. "Eugh."

"You wanna hermit the rest of your life?"

"Better than tryin' to date Bobby."

"I told you not to do it."

"He was just being nice, alright? He wanted to make me feel better and all. Gave him a shot at it. He was sweet. Brought me out to lunch, movies – the lot. He was kinda funny, with his boyish jokes and all. When he shrugged off the fact we couldn't kiss like normal people and he said, "It's cool." Ha ha ha." She said sarcastically. "But he hadn't a clue how to treat a girl when she needs it. Like that time?

"No, you were off to Africa with Storm. Checking up on her village, seeing how the mutant fiesta had disturbed them.

"Okay, so he brought me to a concert. We're quite close to the stage and somewhere in the middle of the thing the bandleader asked the audience if they wanted to hear the unreleased French version of their best single. Of course they wanted it.

"Bobby didn't really see what that meant to me, cheering on with the crowd and yelling the tune. Obviously off-pitch and his French sounded more like vulgarities than the romantic lyrics to me. I couldn't take it no more. I just let go of his hand and ran out of the stadium. I think I trashed the place outside, kicking the garbage and toppling the other bikes like dominoes 'cause security came after me. I drove off before they could catch me, but I heard Bobby yell for me.

He was running toward me, waving his arms and looking all confused. I huffed then picked him up. On the way home, he asked if I was alright, about a million times, he said. I wasn't really listening to him, you know, driving. I only knew he was holding on behind me.

"So after last Christmas, it was over. We started the New Year with a break-up. Great."

"And when did you start going to the Danger Room by yourself?" Logan asked.

"February, I think. I started out with Level One stimulations and did okay. I didn't think Level Five could kill you."

"Charles made it that way, for me."

"Yeah, now I know." She paused in her thoughts. "What should I do, Logan? How'd you move on after the Weapon X Project? No offence."

He waved it aside. "Doing what I do best: fight. Being in wars makes you think again what's really important. You see enemies coming at you, your comrades falling right by you, people dying and little kids crying, families losing their loved ones... Saving lives, it makes you feel like you've regained what you've lost.

"You've just gotta find something – something you like – to take your mind off everything else. It'll never go away, I'll tell you that, but at least there's something."

"There's nothing left."

"Give it time, Rogue." He reached over and patted her arm.

"I've given time lots of time." She shook her head. "I'm going for a ride."

"Come back in one piece."

"Not for a year, I haven't been."

***

He did not hate that Cajun (rest in peace), but he did hate what he had done to her life.

"Would you _please_ get out of here, Rogue?" he walked toward the girl dying on the treadmill. "Enough is enough."

"Just. A. Couple more. Minutes." she said between deep pants, sweat pouring down her brow.

He grunted. "Here." He hung a towel on the sidebars. "When you're done, Charles wants to see you. He's got an idea."

She was as good as her word after her shower. She loved the chill of the water against her pale skin. She noticed she had been bathing like this a lot since... Well, there's no need to say when. As a matter of fact, she had noticed that she had been noticing many things since she and Logan had been having talks. Somehow, speaking whatever was on her mind to someone who understood and was willing to listen made her more aware of her actions.

Why does she like cold water instead of warm? She asked herself. She squirted a glob of shampoo and lathered it into her hair, luxuriating in the soft foam. It did not soothe her, it did not leave a relaxed effect on her muscles nor does it do much good in winter. It was a stark contrast with the heat of her body, reducing her attention to anything else and forcing her to focus on herself. She felt delightfully distant from her surroundings. She turned the knob and let the spray send her shivering. As the coolness trickled in thin streams over her scalp, her mind numbed.

She massaged the conditioner into her hair, rubbing it in blissfully. She reached for the body gel, lathered it in her hands and spread the sweet-smelling foam over her toned stomach. She brought her hands over her breasts and up her shoulders, running her hands down her arms and across her back. Going around her neck, she tucked some soap behind her ears. She took another squeeze of gel and wiped it down her slender leg and up the other. She stuck her leg up on the bathtub edge and rubbed soap between her little toes, trailing her hand to her inner thigh and over her round ass.

She stepped back down and rinsed herself. When she closed the shower, goose bumps grew on her beautiful porcelain skin as she wrapped herself up. She pulled on some black lace and clipped her strapless bra around her back. Downing her purple tank top and magenta sleeves, she completed her regular outfit with black leg-hugging pants ripped at the knee. She shoved on her black sneakers and blow-dried her hair. She looked into her plain reflection before powdering light foundation and picking her black mascara and violet eye shadow, applying them carefully before her bedroom mirror. She sealed her voluptuous lips with mauve colour, smacking them together.

She paced toward the Professor's office, merely nodding at her friends. She did not need to knock.

_Come in, Rogue_.

She found Logan with the Professor, sitting next to the empty chair meant for her. She sat down and crossed her legs.

"How do you feel, Rogue?" asked Xavier. "Honestly."

"I'll live." She glanced at Logan. "Do you know about – "

"Logan had just told me yesterday. Rogue, let's not have this go on anymore."

"What you want me to do?"

"What would you like to do?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"Well, you have your diplomas."

"Who'd give me a job? Everyone knows who we are."

"If you think so. How about a vacation, a very long vacation? I think you'd just need to get away from these _all too familiar_ parts."

"To where?"

"Around the world if you want to. I won't object if it helps you."

Rogue leaned back in thought. She leaned forward again. "It's okay. I don't wanna go around causing more trouble."

The Professor shook his head. "Then, what do you want, Rogue?"

She took a moment to respond. It may be impossible, but it was now or never. "I want to control my powers!"

Her abruptness took neither man by surprise, but her sudden passion made them exchange glances.

"I don't wanna hurt anybody anymore. I wanna stop running! No more avoiding. No more nightmares! NO MORE – " She lowered her head and mouthed the last word to herself.

"Can you commit this, Rogue?" the Professor cautioned upon hearing her thoughts. "Are you really sure you want this?"

"When can this party start?"

***

For the next three months, she was drilled every weekday morning with an inflexible and demanding schedule: be up by six, then a one and a half hour work-out with Logan, a quick shower followed by two hours with the Professor. Breakfast was usually cut out and pasted back as brunch, otherwise it was forgotten and extinguished entirely.

The workout was to set her mind to focus on her objectives, at the same time, refreshing the body into keen alertness. Logan insisted on hand-in-hand combat or physical exercise, not battle stimulations or any illusions of the sort so that she could experience the difference between controlling her psych and her body. She learned to be quick on her feet and even quicker with her eyes, until her responses were agile enough to knock her trainer down once.

Logan sat up, rubbing his broad jaw and looking at her with a knowing smirk. This was the Rogue he knew. He accepted her helping hand and their fighting poles collided, resuming the fight.

Professor Xavier wheeled beside the girl through the acre of forest in the Mansion grounds. Isolation from enclosed space, commotion and noise was crucial for controlling her powers, he had realised, from their first few sessions. They had initially been in the Danger Room, where Logan manned the scene from the Control Room above. She stood upright in the centre of the room, her eyes closed, arms relaxed by her side and feet apart. The Professor sat in his wheelchair, across her. Putting his fingertips on his temples, he entered her mind.

_So what is the plan? _She asked.

_Try to bring up one of the powers you have ever absorbed. We will experiment with it and see how it could help you._

_Okay. Ich werde etwas antreiben Nightcrawler. Sorry. I will try Kurt's powers._

_Good choice. Now, focus on it. Think of what the power does. How does Kurt teleport? How did you feel at the times you had ever teleported? Before the process, what were your thoughts? During the process, what did you do? After teleportation, what was your usual pose?_

_Nightcrawler..._

She felt herself bend her knees and clench her fists.

_It is not working._

_Do not be so quick to give up. Clear your mind. Imagine. The sulphur. The sounds. Opening your eyes to a different surrounding._

_Sulfur. Fire. Smoke. Puff. Poof. Silence. Flash. Kurt. _Whoosh!

She was gone.

Above, Logan jerked his head back in surprise. He looked around the room for her reappearance. There she was; she was in the far corner. She vanished as soon as she came in a wisp of smoke. She appeared in the opposite corner before disappearing again. He heard light-hearted laughter burst from another corner, then another and another. He gave applause.

The Professor applauded as well. "Well done, Rogue!"

She gasped suddenly. The next time she vanished, she appeared right outside the Control Room and was falling. She yelled and vanished again, appearing a few feet off the ground and landed on her feet. She flailed her arms as if to stable herself on the solid floor, suddenly unfamiliar with it. She panted under the adrenaline rush.

"Easy! Easy. Easy..." The Professor wheeled over and patted her shoulder patiently.

"I'm fine." she breathed. "I donno what happened there..."

"I think it's the noise." answered Logan. "It could've distracted you. Sorry."

"Alright." She stood up straight. "Let's try this again!"

She mastered teleportation by the end of the week, being able to travel as far as two miles which was itself, Kurt's limit. Phasing was her next choice, and the forest was a good place to try it. She stood opposite the Professor in the same manner as always, eyes closed and body relaxed but upright.

_Let us focus on Shadowcat. _The Professor began. _Picture her character and how it corresponds to her phasing powers. She is a light-hearted girl who habitually makes her presence known with the people she cares about. Yet her powers enable her to slip through solids._

_Her powers let her slip away and completely avoid things. Almost her opposite. _Rogue noted back to him. _She usually goes with the flow. Not really thinking about. So when using her powers, she probably thinks about what she is doing._

_Let us give that a try. See how it goes. Something simple – like this rock for example. Pick it up. Try to feel it. The texture. The weight. The solidity of it. How – _

"Whoa!" Rogue broke his thoughts.

He looked at her, she looked at the ground. She picked up the rock again with a crooked, but delighted, smile.

"That was fast." He said, sharing a smile.

"This tree's next!"

She promptly walked toward it, her arms, torso, legs and head entering the tree. She felt an uncomfortable, alien pressure encase her, a soft yet heavy sensation against her body. She emerged from the other side of it. With a smile, she continued through the circle of plants that had surrounded them. She peered up at a tree branch. Clenching her hands, she teleported herself there to stand on it. She laid her palms on the trunk, closing her eyes and pushed against it. She walked in and felt herself descending slowly. Gravity pulled her down until her feet touched solid ground. She opened her eyes and surprised herself that she was in the roots of the tree. She could see the soil ahead of her and a few earthworms inching by. She stuck out her tongue in disgust at the latter.

She climbed out of the soil and settled her feet on the grass.

After the following weeks for the rest of the three months, she was on par with Nightcrawler, Shadowcat, Cyclops, Jean Grey, Storm, Professor Xavier, Multiple, Beast, Juggernaut , Avalanche, Blob, Toad, Sabretooth, Colossus, Pyro, Quicksilver, Magneto and even Wanda. It was progress at a maddening rate, which drew admiration and jealously among the other mutants, especially the younger ones.

Those who had been around since Rogue was were greatly in support of her, knowing that this was her moment.

Kitty and Kurt were over the moon. Both of them planned a celebration party just for that occasion.

Although Scott had a small ego cut from knowing that she could control _his_ laser ability, he was glad that his teammate was finally catching on instead of playing behind. Jean was slightly ticked that her absorber did not tire as easily as she did but admitted that Rogue was doing good. She decided to tutor Rogue on telekinesis on weekends.

Storm was thrilled and offered to teach Rogue more about those powers, spending the time she had after sessions with the younger ones with her.

Beast had a kindly smile for the girl, wishing he could lose his physique sometimes. She could posses his powers without the appearance.

"Rogue?" Wolverine looked up from newspaper he was reading when she entered the kitchen. "What's eating you?"

"I'm hungry." she mumbled, pulling out the first cereal box she could reach.

In mute silence, she poured out the cereal and milk, stirring them together in an unwashed bowl she had taken from the sink. She sat across him and ate in small mouthfuls. She stared ahead at the back of the newspaper, but he knew she was not reading a word.

"The powers giving you trouble?"

"Not the plural." she murmured, her voice betraying a small fraction of her disappointment.

"Hmmm." He rubbed his chin. "I thought so."

"How do I get _rid_ of it?"

"Wanna try tomorrow? Who else you got?"

"Well, there's Mystique – damn her – Cannonball, Magma, Berzerker, Sunspot...Er, Boom-Boom, Iceman, Rem – I mean...Well, yeah."

She fell quiet and finished the rest of her cereal. Scooping up the remaining milk, she sipped it spoonful by spoonful. Wolverine folded the newspaper and drank his customary whiskey.

"Need some?" He asked, lifting his glass.

"Yeah, sure."

She put her bowl aside and gratefully accepted the other filled glass he gave her.

* * *

**Author's notes: THANK YOU FOR READING!!! **Whew. To me, it felt like it took ages to finish! Sketching the year out for Rogue wasn't easy, especially in class. I got sent to the back for not paying attention (as if anyone else was!). I don't mind the back (i love it!) but the thing is, there was no more seats at the back! So I wrote some of this stuff on the floor.  
Anyway, I didn't want Rogue to go all emotional and suicidal, but I didn't want to make her a cold, unfeeling bitch either. Let me know what you think, R&R!

**Here's a few tips for those who don't get it.**  
**1)** Rogue says she doesn't care, but she does. She isolates herself, but she wants friends. She is gothic, but not uncaring. AND SHE LOVES REMY LEBEAU (rest in peace), NOT CODY a.k.a. ICEMAN (still alive)!!! READ THE COMICS PEOPLE!  
**2)** Logan is her father figure, always had been. Charles is a nice guy.  
**3)** Actually, I really can't find any loose ends in this one. Let me know if you have so I'll update. **R&R**


	10. A Ghost in her Closet

**Her Queen of Hearts 10**

She turned the knob and pushed the door open, gazing into the empty room. Rooms in the Mansion that were unused always had their windows shut but were left unlocked, and of late there had been no new additions to the X-men family. She stepped into the dark, stuffy silence, quietly closing the door behind her. The scent in the air had barely changed over the year. His unique cologne and a general freshness of mint still hung within the walls. She walked over to the bedside table and pulled the lamp chain, dimly lighting the room. Her eyes spotted the thick novel that forever lay on the same table. She picked it up for the thousandth time with delicate fingers, always recognising the cover as the one he was reading a few days before his arrest. She dusted it and flipped the first few pages, glancing over the lines. There were no dog ears at the corners nor were there any wrinkles on the spine. It was the thief side of him to keep objects in the same state as if he had not touched them.

Holding the book to her chest, she roamed her eyes about the room. There was the bed. She remembered ever spending nights there, sleeping peacefully in his arms, and his head resting above hers. She shuffled to the closet and opened it. They had cleared his stuff long ago, putting them in a couple of boxes and at her request, kept them. She had also asked to leave them in her room, but they reasoned with her and put the boxes in the Mansion's storeroom, where all forms of forgotten junk made their home. She stared at the empty hangers then closed the doors.

She sat on the soft bed and kicked away her boots. She rolled onto the bed and opened the book, upholstered by the pillows. Stretching her legs out, she absorbed herself once more in the story he was reading.

When she awoke, she gasped and leapt from the bed. She checked her watch – 0625 hours. Shit, she was late!

She laid the book back on the table and scrambled to her room, throwing on her uniform and scrubbing her teeth at the same time. In six minutes, she was flying to the gym where Logan was watching the clock intently; just because it was her nineteenth birthday today did not mean lateness was tolerated.

Sessions with the Professor was as usual, only that for the past two and a half weeks, they had been focussing on controlling her powers and not anything else. She found this fortnight the most difficult time in her bloody life.

_You had called for this session, Rogue. Although I would rather have you rest on a weekend._

_I know. I know. I just want to give myself a birthday present._

_Come, Rogue. Try this again._

_Professor – _

_Drilling, Rogue. Drilling; the key idea is persistence. _

_It is not working._

_Patience, please. This will take time. You are not just confronting your power and the fears that obstruct it._

_Not again._

_But you have to handle it. You can pass this barrier._

_I think I have reached my maximum time already, Professor._

_Bring in longer memories. Perhaps they could help outstretch your ten minutes._

_Okay. Let us see how this goes._

She pitied the Professor for having to deal with her pessimistic nature. She was never able to see the good side of things most of the time. When she had withheld her powers for the first time, she was unhappy that it was only for five seconds. The next session, the time doubled, but still did not satisfy her. The time kept doubling at each session until she hit ten minutes. That limit upset her. The value was too painfully familiar. Hence, every time she withheld her powers and the timer the Professor held ticked to ten minutes, _that_ memory would sear itself into her mind and completely throw her off.

Today is Saturday. It is her birthday. She is nineteen today. She is single. She is disappointed. Today is her birthday.

Kitty and Kurt had put a celebration together, along with Scott and Jean, to give the birthday girl something more quiet and respectful. They had kept in mind what had happened since her last birthday. Everyone had brought either a present or a card to wish her the best. But first was dinner.

Kitty and Kurt had disappeared as soon as the table was cleared, returning with an amazing cake. It was firstly huge-mungous. Secondly, it was in the shape of the Mansion. Thirdly, it had the X-men family picture on it.

Kitty could not wait for her best friend's response. "Well?" she cried, "What d'you think?"

"I – I..." Rogue was gobsmacked.

"_Vell_?" Kurt jibbed in. "C'mon, sis! _Vat_ d'you think?"

"It – It...It's beautiful." she said softly, a crooked smile curling itself on her lips.

"Kurt and Kitty did the baking." Jean responded with a hand on her shoulder.

"Ya. But Jean did the picture on the cake." Kurt corrected.

"But you guys shaped the cake." Jean said back.

"Awww, guys!" squealed Kitty, giving Rogue a well-received hug. "The birthday girl's crying!"

True enough, water ran down her light cheeks and she squeezed Kitty back. Kurt handed her a tissue. She took it, dabbed her eyes and stood in front of her cake. Logan produced a lighter, which he snapped the flame on. Rogue stretched out her free hand and motioned the flame to jump from candle to candle that outlined the cake.

"Somebody turn off the lights!"

The sight beheld was beautiful. The icing and cream glowed as the picture reflected the light to its spectators.

"Guys," Rogue cleared the lump in her throat. "I donno what to say. But I think I don't really deserve this. I mean, I've been hurting you guys since last year and – well, you really didn't deserve any of it. Yeah, I gotta say that Jean's put up with me pretty well cause of all the trouble I keep givin' her. Scott too, thanks. Kitty, thanks for the notes. Kurt, I couldn't have asked for a better brother than you. Professor, you really helped pull me through with all my power problems. And I gotta thank Storm for the extra lessons. And for the rest of ya'll too; I know I've bugged you with my mood swings and you all dealt with it. Thanks. But most importantly..."

She paused to walk over to Logan. Throwing her arms around him, the tears came back. "Thanks, Logan." she cried. "You – You really showed me...How that...That true friends...Be there for you. You – You were more than that! You were more like...Like my father than just a friend. I...You..."

He had returned the embrace, patting the girl's head in front of everyone.

"Oh God, thank you!" she finally said it. She did.

"Happy birthday, Rogue." was his reply.

She pulled away and was handed another tissue. She blew her nose as the lyrics to the song emerged from over twenty voices. She squeezed Logan's hand before turning back to her cake. She blew out the candles.

An applause and a series of hoots exploded as Rogue took up the cake knife and cut it in a corner. She made sure nobody in the picture was hurt as she dealt slices for everybody. Each of her friends had received their own faces on their piece as she unwrapped the presents in front of everyone. By popular demand, she read them out.

"From Logan: Hey, Rogue. Don't ever let me catch you taking my drinks." He gave her a simple but stunning necklace. She put it on right away.

"From Professor Xavier: Happy Birthday, Rogue. I am glad that you have come to the conclusion of pursuing the right path. I wish you all the very best for your future." He gave her a small but beautiful vintage lamp.

"From Professor McCoy: Happy Birthday, Rogue. You have done exceedingly well for yourself. I am glad that you have moved on and become such a strong young lady. May you do very well in your future!" He had gotten her a limited edition Sherlock Holmes novel.

"From Scott: Hey, Very Happy Birthday, Rogue. It's been great to know someone like you for so long. Thanks for being such a family member to the X-men. I know we irritate you easy. Don't sweat nineteen, okay? We're here for you!" He bought her a shimmering red scarf.

"Storm: I've watched you grow up into a beautiful and wonderful young lady. We love you so much, Rogue. Never give up while you're friends are here for you. Happy Nineteenth Birthday!" She gave Rogue a new backpack.

"Evan: Yo, Rogue! Oops, I wasn't able to go out and buy you something (don't need to say why) but I tried to make you this little card. Happy birthday, girl!"

"Colossus: It's only been one year, but I think I am okay with you, yes? I want to wish you Happy Birthday and hope you like this gift from Russia. It is traditional food. Happy Birthday, Rogue!" It was a box of lovely, neatly packed Russian sweets.

"Ray, Amara and Rayne: Hey, Happy Nineteenth!" A very simple card.

The list goes on as everyone had their turn to have their beautiful gifts revealed. Rogue bore her crooked but beautiful smile throughout the rest of the evening. The cake was finished and people began to yawn by two in the morning, while the birthday girl had hiccups from the drinking. One by one they left the dining room in its messy state, with brief reminders to clean it all up in the morning.

Rogue bid her friends goodnight and walked back into her own bedroom, carrying her birthday loot. She closed the door and dropped them onto the floor. Kicking aside her shoes and throwing off her clothes, in her underwear and gloves, she suddenly jumped onto her bed and buried her head in her pillow. No one could hear her sobs. No one saw her soaking her pillow. No one knew the words she said. No one thought she would be crying over Remy Lebeau.

She clutched the pillow around her head and rolled around the bed, screaming into the feathers. She thrust the blanket onto the floor and whacked the bedposts with the wet pillow. Not a sound escaped her lips as long as her head was out of the pillow. She pulled the pillow over her head again.

She did not say it so no one would know. So no one would ask. So no one would try to help her anymore.

His face was _on the cake._ The family picture had him inside. His arm was around her shoulder. She had leaned her back toward him. Although trying to keep a distance, her other shoulder was touching his. Her sardonic smile would not convince anyone there was no mutual feeling between them when he had that all-knowing smirk – the smirk that had made her smile.

She jerked her head up and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. Sniffling a little and letting out a few hiccups, she toddled over to her closet. She needed to sleep. But first, her pyjamas, where the hell are they? She roughly opened her cupboard...

"You are way too tense, cheré. And I have just the thing for you."

...and fainted.

She blinked giddily, moaning as her world swirled with the different shades of darkness. She stared at the bare ceiling, feeling the softness of the bed beneath her and sheets over her. Her body felt so delightfully warm. She was encased in warmth. Her hands travelled over the other pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist.

Other pair of –?

She jolted violently, grabbing at the hands that held her. She would have screamed the house down if one of the hands had not cupped her mouth and a whisper blew into her ear. A familiar scent wafted around her. It was cologne and mint.

"Rogue, cheré. No need to fight anymore."

The hand released her. She flipped herself around to face those beautiful red orbs.

She reached over and hit the light.

Oh, God.

Her almost naked body was stretched over the man whose grinning face had tormented her days and haunted her nights for the past year. He held her bare waist with gloved hands and was caressing her hair. Yet she would have thought it were his ghost. She clutched the sleeve of his maroon turtleneck. Beneath the fluffy cotton she felt his firm, powerful shoulders. She ran her gloved fingers over his neck and onto his face, tracing the chiselled angles with incredulity.

"You..."

"I missed you."

"This is not another one of them bloody dreams, is it?"

"It's the real thing, cheré."

"You died."

"I'm here."

"Don't lie to me."

He pulled her closer. "Go ahead. I'm not afraid."

She blinked twice then plunged into his mouth, passing his lips and pushing her tongue into his mouth in hunger. She caught his tongue and danced with it, twirling around it and licking it underneath. She pulled away just as quickly. Her eyes fixed upon his widened ones, listening to him panting.

"You're alive." She threw her arms around his neck. "You're alive! You're alive!"

"You...you've kissed me." he stammered, wrapping his arms around her once again. He hurriedly removed his gloves and fingered her skin.

"Talk to me, Remy!" She pushed herself above him to look into his eyes. Suddenly she seized his turtleneck collar. "Where's you been, huh? Why didn't you come back? Getting me all crazy and crying and...and for nothing! You – You!"

He gave a light hearted laugh, catching her wrists. "We do what we have to, right cheré?"

"Knock it off!" she growled. "What happened with you?"

"I'll tell you. But you wanna wear something? Of course, I love you in what you're wearing now. And that's a very nice necklace." His eyes inspected the perfect, slim curves poised over of him. Cocking his eyebrows suggestively and fingering his way along her side, he added, "Maybe a little more less...?"

"You've got ten minutes before I just suck your memories out!"

He hushed her, signalling her to keep her volume low with a slender finger over his lips. "Alright, cheré." he whispered. "Here's my death story. I never die. It takes more than broken lifts and a few guns to snuff me.

"So a scientist wanted to put me through tests, transporting me in some lift to an experiment room. But it jammed up and I was stuck in the dark. Didn't help to shout either.

"They had drugged me, so I had no powers. I waited then, hoping nothing was happening outside and this jam wasn't part of any experiment. In a few minutes, I knew I was back. They had put me in a bunny suit, t'was my prison uniform. So I stripped. Then my powers won't blow me up."

"You're kidding." Rogue was appalled.

"Nothing to gain, lying to you. I dissolved the roof of the lift and crawled up the shaft. Found out I was a few feet from the experiment room. Forced the door open and came to a bright room, but nobody around. Ran around the walls and looked out the slit on the door. The way the gorillas – soldiers – were scrambling like chickens meant something wasn't right with this place. Waited for my chance. One of them came too close to the door where I was and I slammed it in his face. I stole his uniform and left him in the room, blowing up the lock first.

"It was too loose. They're twice my size, for the love of _Dieu_! I was halfway strapping up so the pants won't slip, then the alpha gorilla came yelling. Joined his pack and escaped in a pod into the ocean. I don't think anyone saw you, but I noticed three bodies floating above the sub."

He shot a grateful smile at her, "I knew you'd come for me. I'm so sorry, Rogue."

He lifted his hand onto her cheek, stroking the amazingly smooth skin. It was more than beautiful, it was virgin skin.

"Can we kiss, now?"

"What happened after that?"

He took a deep breath, "Just one, short _and _sweet?"

"Eagh." she grumbled. "Guess I'm depriving myself too."

She relented, leaning onto his chest and pulling off her gloves. Stretching her arms above her head, she touched his lips with hers. He licked her wonderfully soft lips, tilting his head to the side to push deeper into her. His ravenous tongue dived into her mouth and lapped under her. A fierce fight for dominance ensued when she looped around him, immobilising his tongue with hers. He pulled himself out and parted from her mouth. She crashed back into him almost immediately. He felt her try to push into him, licking his lips, especially at the corners. He kept himself closed and grinned. She pushed herself up with a moan so her head hung above him. Tapping on his teeth, she begged entrance into the place she had missed so immensely.

Oh, he had missed this so much.

"Short and sweet, I said."

He let a small gap. She cruelly forced him open and invaded him, running her wet organ over him and around him, leaving no room for him to escape her again. He submitted to her, letting her deal with him as she pleased. He trailed his avid hands down her back, over her thin bra strap and across the small of her back. He ran them back up, ravishing in the velvetiness of her pale skin. She opened her legs to lie comfortably on his upper body and to allow a certain lower anatomy more space. He groaned into her mouth, drawing circles in the small of her back. Lowering his hands, he fingered the silk of her panties and explored the fullness of her soft ass. A moan of pleasure escaped from both of them as he felt her roundness tenderly.

"Oh, Remy." she hummed onto his lips. "This is so wrong."

"It's not sex. So what?"

"Continue your story, please?"

"Seriously?" Upon seeing the burning curiosity in her eyes, he shrugged his shoulders. Then he noticed something. "How long have we been?"

Rogue sat up with surprise. Glancing at the clock at her bedside, she gave a startled look. "I've no idea."

"T'was more than ten minutes, cheré, definitely more."

"Oh, whoa."

He took her bare hand, entwining her fingers with a confident smile. He patted the empty space on the bed next to him, beckoning her to lie with. She slipped and lay down, snuggling up to his warm body. No longer embarrassed by the closeness of their bodily differences, she actually pressed herself against his black jeans, hands plucking the cloth of his turtleneck.

"Tell me more."

"Then the sub ended in some base in Arizona. No soldier was allowed to take off their uniforms and reveal their identities to each other. Must be about the secrecy and protecting themselves if someone were to betray them. Only a doctor could look at your face, then again, they wanted you to strip to check you. Of course then, I would've been in trouble. But when it was my turn, I took down the guards inside and the doc, taking the ventilator way out. I strolled the lobby, looking for a ride. Found two guards outside at the post with a bike. Told one to find the chief, the other that I was to scout the area. Took the bike and sped to some caves faraway. Walked to Las Vegas and won some cash. I always win the cards."

"Yeah, sure. Where'd you get the money to gamble?"

"Working." He grinned. "Getting by..."

She shook her head disapprovingly but her eyes shone. She remembered all too well what he meant – pick pocketing – he had showed her on their Blood Moon Bayou 'date'. It _sure was_ a screwed up date, she thought to herself. How did love come out from there, she could not remember.

"So you _walked_ to Vegas?"

"No joke. In a ridiculous army uniform, people thought I was some war survivor, wandering around. But it got me the right clothes. And I'm clean – no whores, alright? But then some soldiers started crawling about. I flew to San Francisco and spent Christmas hiding. Soldiers were everywhere and cops were off donut break. Wore a cloth cap all the time. They found it fishy. So...I...Hmmm."

"What?" she asked quizzically.

"Don't get me all wrong, Rogue. But your _amant_ became a fag for a while..."

"What?" she stated flatly. "What you say?"

"Y'know infamous 'Frisco... Yeah. Best way to blend in."

"You didn't..." She gestured with her hands.

"Oh no. No, no. But I nearly lost it when he got to close. I got to South Dakota on a bus trip in January to Pierre, then Chicago, Detroit, St. Louis, backtracked to Kansas City... Cops were on in Louis... Jefferson City, Springfield, Louisville, Indianapolis, Washington D.C. then flew to New York. Took a bus to Bayville and snuck into the Mansion, undetected by all those sensors. Naturally..."

She poked his prideful chest.

"They still on you or what? You're hiding in my closet and all."

"No. Just don't wanna wake the house."

"Especially Logan?"

"_Especially_ Logan." His finger traced the necklace. "But he gave you this. That's nice. And all the other trinkets – arranged on the desk if you wanna know."

She smiled. "Thanks. But can I just have you?"

He put his hand on the depth of her curve, made curvier by the way she lay on her side, propped up by an elbow. He ran his hands along the curve, sliding over her shoulder and down her arm. Reaching her hand, he laid a trail of kisses up her shoulder to around her collar bone. She sighed and lifted her head. With more access, he kissed her neck ever so slowly. Upon touching the skin just below her ear, she let out a moan. He nibbled the flesh right there, drawing more noise from her as she pressed onto him. He rolled over and lay on his back. Pulling her on top of him, he continued below her jaw, leaving light red marks where he had bitten her. His lips crawled to her cheek and reached the corner of her lip.

She laid her finger on his lips. "You're wearing more than me."

"To be fair or to be stripped?" He smirked.

"How many pieces you wearing?"

"Wanna find out?"

"You asked for it."

She pulled his turtleneck over his head to find a black, skin-tight shirt beneath.

"Minus one makes two. All's fair in love."

"You suck."

"Which one you ready for, cheré? The pants or the shirt?"

"If I choose your pants, there's still underwear. Or boxers?"

He shrugged his shoulders with a mischievous chuckle.

"Where'd you learn all this?"

"Dreaming you were here."

"What kind of dreams?" He waggled his eyebrows.

"Gimme that shirt."

Rogue knew she should not be doing this, stripping a man. Then again, she should not be in her underwear in front of a man. It was simply improper behaviour for any lady who considered herself virtuous. Here she was, a virgin, practically untouchable and raised by good people, sitting on a man's groin wearing only a laced black bra and matching panties. Ooh! But it felt too good to let the chance go. She wanted his body. She needed it so bad.

She peeled the shirt away. He eyes searched over his smooth skin and toned muscles. Where was the flaw? No awkward weakness? Are his abs for real? She ran her hands over his stomach, counting the knots that her fingers bumped into. She glided onto his firm chest and measured his broad shoulders, feeling the muscles in his forearms.

"You like?"

"Every damned thing you've got, I love."

"Next time, take the pants."

"Yeah, next time."

Bang! The door swung open and smashed into the wall. Rogue jumped and spun her head around.

"Don't think there's gonna be a next time," growled the bulky intruder. "Either of yah!"

He could tell so much from an alive but half-naked Gambit and a skimpily dressed Rogue sitting on top.

He turned his killer glare onto the indifferent Cajun, who had accepted the challenge and sat himself up, laying his hands on her thighs.

"Should I be glad you're back or put these up your ass?" Logan's fist clenched and his claws unsheathed themselves, gleaming in the light of the lamp.

"How about glad?"


End file.
